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P   iT Jf& 


GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON 


BY 


HARRIET    RIDDLE    DAVIS 


' 1  am  all  the  daughters  of  my   father's  house, 
And  all  the  brothers  too." 

Twelfth  Night. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW   YORK  LONDON 

-WKST  TWENTY-THIRD  ST.        zy  KING  WILLIAM  ST..  STRAND 

£bt  fimckEibochrr  JJrtss 
1890 


COPYRIGHTED  1890 


HARRIET   R.   DAVIS 


Ubc  ftnicfterbocfter  press,  flew  Borfc 

Electrotyped,  Printed,  and  Bound  by 
G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 


CONTENTS. 


I. — A  FIRST-DAY  TRUANT  .         .         .         .  i 

II. AlRLIE 15 

III. — AN  ALIEN 32 

IV. — GILBERT'S  WORDS  BEAR  FRUIT     .         .  42 

V. — BREAKING  THE  BAY  COLT     ...  53 

VI. — BENDING  THE  TWIG      ....  67 
VII. — "  SINCE  I  SAW  YOU  LAST  THERE  is  A 

CHANGE  UPON  YOU  "  .        .78 

VIII. — FALLEN  UPON  EVIL  DAYS     ...  92 

IX. — THE  EVE  OF  CHRISTMAS        .         .        .  104 

X. — "  I  WALK  ALONE." — Via  Solitaria         .  122 

XI. — THE  NEW  MASTER  OF  AIRLIE        .         .  134 

XII. — THE  FIRST  HARVEST     ....  146 

XIII. — UNDER  THE  NEW  RULE        .         .         .  160 

XIV. — JARED  COMES  "  WITHIN  THE  MEASURE 

OF  WRATH  " 176 

XV. — AWAY  FROM  HOME  FOR  NEWS       .         .  187 

XVI. — DICK  SHAPES  HIS  COURSE     .        .        .  204 

XVII.— THE  "  HORTICULTURAL  "      .        .        .216 

XVIII. — A  STRANGER  AT  AIRLIE        .         .         .  229 


1732148 


IV  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIX. — "  PRESSED  BEYOND  HER  FREEDOM  "       .  245 

XX. — DISQUIET       ......  264 

XXI. — A  BOLD  RESOLVE  .         .        .        .        .  275 

XXII. — A  COUSINLY  FOOTING  ....  288 

XXIII.— THE  Fox  HUNT 296 

XXIV.— FOOL'S  MANOR 313 

XXV. — OUTRIDING  THE  STORM         .        .         .  328 

XXVI. — A  NIGHT  AT  IVANWOLD        .        .         .  342 

XXVII. — SERIOUS  CONSEQUENCES        .         .         .  354 

XXVIII.— THE  POINT  OF  VIEW     .         .         .         .367 

XXIX.— "  HAWKINS  is  CALLIN'."        .         .         .385 

XXX. — ROBIN  FACES  THE  TRUTH     .         .         .  398 

XXXI. — THE  VILLAGE  WEDDING        .         .         .  409 

XXXII. — CONFESSION 421 

XXXIII.—"  WAS  'T  NOT  TO  THIS  END  ?  "      .         .  436 


GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A    FIRST-DAY    TRUANT. 

/^VN  the  edge  of  a  historic  wood,  known  in  old  Mary- 
land days  as  Charlie  Forest,  stands  a  brick  Meet- 
ing-House, weather-beaten  and  stained,  showing  upon 
its  worn  and  weary  face  the  imprint  of  many  years.  It 
is  untouched  by  ornament,  uncovered  by  vines,  as  old- 
fashioned  as  the  day  in  which  it  was  built,  and  quaint 
and  restful  as  the  community  to  which  it  belongs.  It 
stands  hushed  and  deserted  in  the  warm  June  sunshine, 
doors  and  windows  wide  open,  invitingly  and  expectantly. 
Only  the  borers  break  the  stillness,  as  they  buzz  up  and 
down  the  long  porch,  in  search  of  the  little  cells  they 
have  so  industriously  made  in  the  woodwork  ;  occasion- 
ally finding  their  way  through  the  open  doors  and 
windows,  humming  round  the  high-backed,  cushionless 
benches,  which  in  long  empty  rows  "  face  the  Meeting"; 
sometimes  lighting  on  the  top  of  the  sheet-iron  stove, 
with  its  dozen  or  more  soapstones  neatly  piled  on  the 


2  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

top,  or  inquisitively  skimming  along  the  edge  of  the 
wooden  partition  which  divides  the  Meeting  into  two 
distinct  parts,  and  then  out  again  into  the  more  attrac- 
tive sunshine. 

Far  up  the  road  which  winds  in  and  out  among  the 
trees  comes  a  carriage,  followed  in  a  moment  by  another, 
and  soon  a  procession  of  vehicles  of  all  sorts  and  de- 
scriptions is  seen  approaching  :  -buggies  with  and  with- 
out tops,  long-bodied  daytons,  light,  springy  carts,  a  few 
wagons  with  close  canvas  sides,  and  here  and  there  an 
old-fashioned  rockaway  with  its  curtain  flapping  in  the 
summer  breeze.  Among  them  all  are  some  comfortably- 
appointed  carriages  and  not  a  few  well-mounted  horse- 
men. Soon  the  hitching-posts  are  all  full,  and  the  later 
comers  are  forced  to  drive  into  the  woods  and  fasten 
their  horses  to  the  trees.  The  Meeting-House  porch  is 
filled  with  a  motley  group  of  men  and  women,  all  linger- 
ing to  exchange  subdued  greetings.  The  elder  women, 
in  their  soft  gowns  of  gray  and  drab,  with  folded  ker- 
chiefs and  old-time  drawn  bonnets  shading  their  sweet 
and  placid  faces,  look  like  a  flock  of  doves  just  alighted 
for  a  moment ;  while  in  striking  contrast  to  them  are  the 
young  women,  in  modern-cut  gowns  and  stylish  head- 
gear, though,  as  if  not  to  depart  too  much  from  early 
training,  there  is  evident  care  shown  in  the  selection  of 
colors.  Among  the  men  only  two  or  three  of  the  elders 
wear  the  large-brimmed  hat  and  long  coat  of  the  Friends; 
the  younger  men  being  dressed  very  much  as  well-to-do 


A   FIRST-DAY    TRUANT.  3 

farmers  usually  are  who  are  not  very  near  and  are  quite 
indifferent  to  the  centres  of  fashion.  One  by  one  they 
enter  their  respective  doors,  the  men  on  one  side,  the 
women  on  the  other,  till  the  porch  is  nearly  deserted. 

At  last  a  comfortable  carriage,  driven  by  a  stalwart 
negro,  draws  up  to  the  porch.  An  elderly  man,  well  and 
carefully  dressed,  jumps  out  and  helps  a  woman  some- 
what younger  than  himself  to  alight.  Without  being  tall, 
she  is  somehow  imposing-looking,  in  her  stiff,  full- 
skirted  black  silk  gown,  twisted  silk  shawl  and  plain 
straw  bonnet.  There  bounds  out  behind  her  a  little  girl 
about  ten  years  old,  with  clear  gray  eyes  and  bright  red- 
brown  hair,  and  dressed  in  a  white  frock  and  broad- 
brimmed  straw  hat.  The  mother,  for  mother  and  child 
they  are,  takes  the  little  girl  by  the  hand  and  hurries  into 
the  Meeting;  the  child  holding  back  reluctantly  and  with 
lagging  steps.  They  take  one  of  the  front  seats  facing 
the  elders'  benches,  and  just  in  front  of  the  open  side 
door.  The  little  girl  slips  quickly  to  the  end  of  the 
bench  near  the  door,  and  the  mother  sits  quietly  farther 
away.  There  are  a  few  straggling  arrivals  after  this,  a 
good  deal  of  shuffling  of  feet  from  the  men  on  the  other 
side  of  the  partition,  and  a  few  nervous,  irrepressible 
coughs  from  the  women  ;  then  an  all-pervading  silence 
falls  and  First-Day  Meeting  begins. 

The  silence  was  so  intense,  so  deep,  that  the  very 
springs  of  life  seemed  hushed.  The  rustle  of  the  trees 
outside,  or  the  whinny  of  an  impatient  horse,  was  the 


4  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

only  sound  that  broke  the  stillness.  The  little  girl  at 
the  end  of  the  bench  sat  very  still  for  a  long  time.  The 
top  of  her  head  came  just  a  little  above  the  top  of  the 
bench,  and  she  gazed  solemnly  into  the  faces  of  the  row 
of  Friends  who  sat  upon  the  benches  on  the  platform. 
Finally  she  turned  her  eyes  longingly  out  the  open  door 
at  the  green  grass  and  the  alluring  trees,  which  seemed 
to  wave  and  bend  towards  her.  A  big,  brown  robin 
lighted  on  the  porch  and  wickedly  hopped  about,  and, 
as  if  afraid  to  look  too  long  at  him,  she  gazed  back  at 
the  row  of  Friends,  and  wondered  if  Friend  Rush,  in 
the  corner,  were  really  asleep,  and  if  it  were  not  time 
for  Meeting  to  be  over.  Then  she  fell  to  counting  the 
window-panes,  but  she  could  see  only  a  few  of  the  win- 
dows, and  she  dared  not  turn  to  count  those  behind 
her  ;  so  she  leaned  forward  and  tried  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  her  father  across  the  Meeting.  Suddenly  an  indis- 
tinct murmur  broke  the  oppressive  silence,  a  few  dis- 
jointed words  uttered  without  any  one  being  able  to 
locate  them  at  once.  Every  one  took  advantage  of  the 
slight  stir  to  draw  a  long  breath  and  to  secure  a  more 
comfortable  position.  Then  Friend  Rush  demonstrated 
that  she  was  not  asleep.  She  opened  her  eyes,  slowly 
untied  her  bonnet,  laid  it  carefully  beside  her  on  the 
bench,  rose,  placed  her  hands  on  the  rail  in  front  of  her, 
and,  slightly  swaying  her  body  forward,  commenced  in  a 
low  and  gentle  voice,  which  as  she  proceeded  became  a 
sort  of  chant  ; 


A   MRST-DAY   TRUANT.  5 

"There  dwells  in  us  a  Holy  Spirit  who  watches  all 
our  evil  deeds,  and  who  treats  us  according  as  we  treat 
Him.  If  our  heart  condemn  us,  God  is  greater  than  our 
heart,  and  knoweth  all  things.  If  our  heart  condemn  us 
not " 

Just  at  this  sentence  the  little  girl  looked  up  with 
a  quick  side-glance  at  her  mother,  who  was  giving 
absorbed  and  serious  attention  to  the  remarks  just 
begun  ;  then  she  glanced  round  as  if  to  gauge  the  possi- 
bilities of  detection  from  behind  ;  then  fixing  her  gaze 
longingly  on  the  open  door,  with  its  glimpse  of  sweet, 
cool  green  outside,  she  wavered  a  moment,  and  with  a 
quick  bound  she  was  out  the  door,  down  the  steps,  and 
out  of  sight.  The  mother  turned  in  surprise  and  made 
a  movement  to  follow  the  vanishing  child,  but  as  if 
second  thought  checked  her  she  settled  back  with  a  set 
look  about  the  lips,  and  gave  her  attention  again  to  the 
discourse,  which  went  on  uninterruptedly  : 

" then  have  we  confidence  towards  God,  and  what- 
soever we  ask  we  receive  of  Him,  because  we  keep  His 
commandments  and  do  those  things  which  are  pleasing 
in  His  sight." 

Here  the  speaker  paused,  hesitated  a  moment,  then 
sat  down  and  quietly  resumed  her  bonnet.  The  hush 
again  fell  upon  the  Meeting.  Who  ever  knows  the  pre- 
cise moment  that  inspires  the  elders  of  the  Meeting  to 
bring  it  to  a  close  by  a  clasping  of  hands  ?  but  just  when 
it  seems  that  the  hour  is  destined  never  to  end,  and  one 


6  GILBERT   ELGAR  S   SON. 

despairs  of  ever  moving  from  the  bench  again,  this  wel- 
come signal  is  given,  and  by  common  impulse  the 
Meeting  rises  and  moves  slowly  out  upon  the  porch, 
where  follows  a  brief  time  of  cheerful  greetings  and  con- 
versation. 

The  mother  of  the  little  girl  hurried  to  the  door  and 
out  upon  the  side  porch.  Without  heeding  the  several 
greetings  addressed  to  her,  she  looked  anxiously  up  and 
down  the  winding  road,  and  even  went  a  little  way  into 
the  woods.  Just  as  she  was  about  to  turn  back  she  saw 
two  figures  emerging  from  the  distant  trees,  a  tall  young 
man  coming  along  with  a  swinging  gait  and  a  child 
hanging  to  his  arm.  He  waved  his  hat,  and  when  near 
enough  called  out  in  a  bright,  ringing  voice  : 

"  Don't  scold  us,  Aunt  Dorothy." 

Aunt  Dorothy's  anxious  face  relaxed  almost  into  a 
smile  at  the  sight  of  the  handsome,  boyish  face,  so 
eagerly  begging  indulgence  for  the  child. 

"  Why,  Richard,  where  did  thee  come  from  ?  I  did 
not  know  thee  was  in  the  neighborhood,  or  even  ex- 
pected. How  does  thee  do,  and  where  did  thee  pick  up 
this  truant  child  of  mine  ?  " 

As  she  spoke  she  put  out  her  hand  and  took  both  of 
his,  shaking  them  heartily. 

"I  came  only  last  night,  and  thought  I  'd  ride  over 
just  about  the  time  Meeting  would  be  out,  and  catch 
you  and  Uncle  Gilbert  before  you  got  away,  when  sud- 
denly there  popped  up  in  the  road  before  me  this  little 


A  FIRST-DAY   TRUANT.  *] 

maid,  who  nearly  frightened  my  horse  into  throwing  me. 
I  did  not  like  to  ride  through  the  village  with  her,  pillion- 
fashion,  for  fear  of  scandalizing  the  good  people  ;  so  I 
got  Bobby  Stokes  to  lead  my  horse  round  by  the  pike, 
and  I  struck  across  the  woods  with  Robin,  and  here  we 
are.  So  please  say  you  are  glad  to  see  us." 

"  I  am  heartily  glad  to  see  thee,  Richard,  and  am  glad 
thee  brought  this  runaway  back.  But,  lad,  how  thee  has 
grown  ;  thee  will  come  home  to  dinner  with  us  ?  " 

"  Oh,  do,  Dick  ;  I  want  to  show  thee  my  new  puppies." 

"  There,  that  will  do,  Robin  ;  let  go  of  cousin  Rich- 
ard's hand  and  come  at  once.  Father  is  waiting  and  will 
be  impatient,  and  nearly  every  one  is  gone.  Do  thee 
come  too,  Richard." 

"  Thanks,  dear  aunt,  I  '11  ride  up  this  afternoon  ;  but 
I  really  must  dine  at  home  my  first  day.  Cousin  Debo- 
rah would  never  forgive  me  if  I  did  not.  Oh,  here  's 
uncle." 

"  Why,  Dick,  my  boy,  I  'm  as  glad  to  see  thee  as  I  'd 
be  to  find  a  gold  mine.  Where  did  thee  spring  from  ? 
Coming  home  with  us  ?  No  ?  Why  not  ?  Plenty  of 
room  in  the  carriage." 

"  Can't  possibly  do  so,  dear  uncle  ;  I  must  go  back 
to  Ivanwold  for  dinner.  I  '11  ride  up  this  afternoon,  as 
I  've  just  told  Aunt  Dorothy  ;  so  good-bye  till  then. 
Good-bye,  Robin." 

Meanwhile,  Robin,  who  had  held  fast  to  Dick's  hand 
all  the  time,  now  let  go  and  said  : 


8  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

"  Bend  thy  head  down,  Dick." 

Dick  bent  his  closely-cropped  head,  and  Robin  flung 
her  arms  around  his  neck  and  whispered  : 

"  I  've  saved  the  brown-and-white  puppy  for  thee." 

"  Come,  Robin,  come.  We  must  go."  And  the  child 
was  hurried  away  with  last  good-byes.  The  carriage  door 
was  shut,  and  father,  mother  and  child  were  whirled 
away  from  the  porch.  Dick  stood  with  head  still  bared 
in  the  sunshine  looking  after  them.  A  smile  hovered 
about  his  lips  as  he  remembered  Robin's  escapade,  know- 
ing full  well  that  though  his  aunt  gave  no  reproof  at  the 
time  to  the  truant,  there  was  one,  nevertheless,  in  store 
for  her.  His  reflections  were  cut  short,  however,  for 
the  few  people  still  left  upon  the  porch  caught  sight  of 
him,  and  hearty  handshakes  and  greetings  poured  in  upon 
him  ;  queries  as  to  when  he  came,  how  long  he  would 
stay,  followed  rapidly  upon  each  other,  to  all  of  which 
he  replied  frankly  and  cordially.  There  was  something 
of  courtliness  and  grace  in  his  manner  that  savored  of 
a  world  beyond  the  woods,  and  told  of  a  training  dif- 
ferent from  that  of  the  work-a-day  men  about  him. 
He  finally  beckoned  to  Bobby  Stokes  to  bring  up  his 
horse,  and  swinging  himself  into  the  saddle,  turned 
homeward,  almost  the  last  to  leave  the  Meeting-House. 

Meanwhile  the  carriage  sped  on  its  way,  out  of  the 
woods,  through  the  village,  past  the  blacksmith's,  past  the 
store  and  the  toll-gate,  all  silent  in  the  dazzling  sunshine. 
The  road  lay  straight  and  white  for  a  couple  of  miles, 


A   FIRST-DAY   TRUANT.  9 

dotted  all  the  way  along  with  old-fashioned  farm-houses, 
surrounded  with  waving  fields  of  wheat  which  stretched 
down  to  the  roadside.  Occasionally  there  was  a  more 
pretentious  dwelling,  with  stately  trees,  well-kept  lawn 
and  imposing  entrance,  on  which  in  distinct  lettering 
could  be  read  the  name  of  the  place  and  its  owner.  The 
road  finally  made  an  abrupt  turn  to  the  right,  and  for  a 
mile  extended  through  a  scant  wood  ;  then  on  again  in 
a  white  stretch,  bordered  on  one  side  by  a  thick  and 
luxuriant  hedge,  beyond  which  in  the  distance  clustered 
a  village. 

The  carriage  turned  in  at  an  opening  in  the  hedge.  A 
long  lane,  rich  with  sweet  Indian  grass,  and  bordered  on 
each  side  of  the  driveway  with  locust  trees  heavy  with 
the  hanging  bloom,  led  up  to  the  rambling,  picturesque 
house,  of  an  indescribable  faint-red  color.  A  more  irregu- 
lar and  antiquated  pile  could  not  be  found  in  all  Mary- 
land. It  was  evident  that  when  it  was  built  it  was 
intended  for  two  distinct  dwellings,  and  at  a  later  day 
some  genial  owner  had  connected  the  two  separate  parts, 
making  a  most  unique  and  picturesque  whole.  The 
main  building  was  built,  tradition  says,  of  Queen  Anne 
brick,  brought  from  England  in  the  old  colonial  days, 
when  it  was  customary  to  bring  brick  over  to  the  new 
country  as  ballast  for  the  ships,  which  would  carry  back 
heavy  cargoes  of  tobacco.  This  imposing  and  stately  part 
of  the  house  had  a  wide  porch  which  extended  all  across 
the  front.  A  broad  entrance  door,  surrounded  by  many 


io  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

little  diamond  panes  of  glass,  opened  into  a  square  hall, 
in  which  was  a  spacious  stairway  with  several  landings. 
The  other  half  of  the  house  was  built  of  wood,  and  was 
the  opposite  in  every  way  to  the  more  pretentious  Queen 
Anne  half.  It  was  low,  rambling  and  weird-looking,  with 
a  steep-pitched  roof,  grown  over  with  moss,  and  many 
dormer  windows  looking  out  upon  all  sides.  A  high- 
peaked  porch  covered  the  entrance,  which  opened  into  a 
narrow,  long  passage,  with  many  doors  opening  to  right 
and  left,  and  ending  in  a  winding  stairway.  Outside,  no 
shrubs  nor  flower-beds  marred  the  effect  of  the  soft,  vel- 
vety turf  which  stretched  everywhere,  to  the  meadow  on 
the  right,  to  the  brook  and  dairy  on  the  left,  and  to 
the  old-fashioned  garden  in  the  rear,  surrounded  by  a 
hedge.  The  carriage-way  only  approached  within  a  hun- 
dred feet  of  the  house,  where  it  made  an  abrupt  turn 
towards  the  stables.  At  this  turn  was  a  flat,  well-worn 
stepping-stone,  and  to  this  stone  the  carriage  drew  up. 

The  three  miles  which  lay  between  the  Meeting-House 
and  Airlie  had  been  traversed  in  silence.  Robin  felt  the 
rebuke  that  was  thus  passed  upon  her.  She  had  tried  to 
slip  her  hand  into  her  mother's,  but  meeting  no  response, 
had  slipped  it  confidingly  into  her  father's,  who  held  it 
fast,  stroking  it  with  his  other,  but  speaking  no  word. 
As  the  carriage  stopped  there  was  a  rush  from  the  house, 
and  two  dogs  tore  over  the  grass  to  welcome  the  return- 
ing master.  Robin  made  no  effort  to  get  out.  After  her 
parents  had  alighted,  they  awaited  a  moment ;  then  Gil- 
bert said : 


A  FIRST-DAY    TRUANT.  11 

"  Come,  my  child." 

"  Father,  may  n't  I  ride  to  the  stables  with  Kane  ?  " 

"  No,  thy  mother  has  a  few  words  to  say  to  thee  before 
dinner  ;  so  come." 

Reluctantly  she  jumped  out  and  followed  her  mother 
and  father,  stopping  by  the  way  to  pat  and  kiss  each  of 
the  dogs.  Her  father  had  settled  himself  in  his  arm- 
chair, which  stood  always  in  a  sheltered  corner  of  the 
porch,  and  where  he  had  sat  summer  and  winter  for  years, 
as  his  father  had  done  before  him  ;  while  on  the  window- 
sill,  right  by  his  side,  were  pipe  and  tobacco  ready  to  his 
hand.  Dorothea  held  the  sitting-room  door  open  for 
Robin,  then  it  closed  on  mother  and  child.  The  room 
was  large  and  divided  at  one  end  by  folding-doors, 
which  stood  wide  open.  A  heavy  carved  cornice  sup- 
ported the  ceiling,  and  was  matched  by  a  chair-boarding 
of  the  same  carving.  A  long  mirror  was  between  the 
front  windows,  divided  into  sections  by  gilt  moulding. 
The  spindle-legged  furniture  was  of  mahogany,  with  nar- 
row lines  of  yellow  inlaid  wood.  An  old-fashioned 
work-table  with  brass  knobs  and  a  heavy  bookcase  stood 
upon  one  side  of  the  room,  while  the  big  fireplace, 
filled  in  with  feathery  asparagus  branches,  was  on  the 
opposite  side.  On  the  high  mantel  shelf  were  tall  silver 
candlesticks,  with  an  elaborate  white-and-gilt  china  vase 
standing  between  them.  Muslin  curtains  at  the  windows 
let  in  the  soft  summer  air.  •  Dorothea  slowly  untied  her 
bonnet  and  removed  her  shawl ;  then  gently  drew  Robin 
to  her  side. 


12  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

"  Robin,  why  did  thee  mortify  and  grieve  mother  so  in 
Meeting  this  morning  ?  " 

"  Did  I  grieve  thee  ?  I  did  not  mean  to  ;  but  thee 
sees,  when  Friend  Rush  got  up  to  speak — and  thee 
knows,  mother,  that  thee  said  thyself  thee  hoped  she 
would  not  speak, — and  when  she  said,  '  If  thy  heart  con- 
demn thee  not,'  and  I  asked  my  heart  if  it  would  condemn 
me  if  I  took  just  one  little  look  out  the  door,  and  it  said 
it  would  n't,  so  I  slipped  out." 

"  But,  Robin,  thee  knows  that  every  one  saw  thee,  and 
it  was  a  terrible  disrespect  to  the  Meeting." 

"  Well,  perhaps  they  did  n't  see  me  very  well,  for  thee 
knows  my  head  did  n't  come  up  very  high  above  the 
back  of  the  bench  ;  but  it  looked  so  cool  out-of-doors, 
and  the  trees  kept  beckoning  to  me,  and  my  namesake 
hopped  i}p  on  the  porch  and  said :  '  Don't  thee  wish 
thee  was  out  here  ?  don't  thee  wish  thee  was  out  here  ? ' ' 

"  Thy  namesake,  child  ;  whatever  does  thee  mean  ? " 

"  Why,  a  robin-red-breast,  mother  ;  and  he  was  so 
polite  in  asking  me  out  that  I  could  not  help  going  ;  and 
he  hopped  all  the  way  through  the  woods  in  front  of  me, 
till  I  found  Cousin  Dick,  then  he  flew  away." 

"  Oh,  my  child,  what  shall  I  do  with  thee  ?  Where 
does  thee  get  thy  queer  notions  ?  thee  is  too  old  to 
behave  so." 

Dorothea  got  up,  crossed  the  room  to  the  book-case, 
opened  a  drawer  and  took  out  a  small,  well-worn  brown 
book. 


A   FIRST-DAY    TRUANT.  13 

u  Now  listen,  my  child,  to  what  the  '  Book  of  Dis- 
cipline '  says.  Is  thee  listening  ? "  And  she  began 
to  read  : 

1 '  It  is  directed  that  those  who  come  late  to  Meeting, 
or  when  there  fall  asleep,  or  are  restless,  or  do  not  stay 
in  the  Meeting,  but  go  forth  unnecessarily,  or  otherwise 
behave  themselves  on  those  solemn  occasions  unbecom- 
ing our  Holy  profession,  be  treated  with  and  seasonably 
admonished.'  Now,  Robin,  thee  would  n't  like  to  see 
mother  mortified  by  having  some  of  the  Friends  wait  on 
thee  from  Monthly  Meeting,  would  thee  ?  " 

"  Oh,  mother,  surely  they  won't  come  and  scold  me  ?  " 
And  as  if  overcome  at  the  terror  of  an  admonishing 
committee,  she  flung  her  arms  about  her  mother's  neck 
and  buried  her  face. 

"  No,  child,  I  don't  think  they  will ;  but  if  thee  goes 
on  doing  so,  and  grows  up  showing  such  disrespect,  they 
would  have  just  cause  for  coming  to  thy  father  and  me 
and  admonishing  us." 

"  Oh,  mother,  I  '11  never  do  it  again  ;  I  '11  be  good 
next  First-Day  Meeting,  only  we  won't  sit  by  the  door, 
will  we?" 

There  was  a  twitching  smile  on  Dorothea's  lips  at  this 
naive  question. 

"  Now,  Robin,  what  punishment  does  thee  think  I 
ought  to  give  thee  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  ;  we  might  ask  father." 

"  No,  I  shall  not  ask  father,  it  would  be  no  punish- 


14  GILBERT   ELGAR'S  SON. 

ment  at  all ;  but  thee  cannot  go  with  father  hunting 
Fourth-Day  as  thee  had  planned,  nor  indeed  go  at  all 
for  a  month  ;  does  thee  hear  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  hear,  mother.  If  thee  would  only  let  me  go 
Fourth-Day,  I  'd  try  not  to  mind  the  rest." 

"  No,  it  must  be  just  as  I  say." 

"  Well,  mother,  I  'm  glad  thee  did  not  say  I  should  n't 
see  Cousin  Dick  this  afternoon  ;  for  then  I  would  n't  be 
able  to  show  him  the  puppies,  as  I  promised.  May  I  go 
now,  mother  ?  " 

"Yes,  and  mind  thee  what  I  have  said." 

Robin  rushed  out  on  the  porch  where  her  father  was 
smoking. 

"  Well,  little  one,  is  it  over  ?  " 

*'  Yes,  but  mother  says  I  cannot  go  hunting  with  thee 
Fourth-Day,  nor  go  at  all  for  the  rest  of  the  month. 
Won't  thee  beg  me  off,  father  dear  ?  " 

A  broad  smile  broke  over  Gilbert  Elgar's  face  at  this 
tragic  announcement  of  Robin's  ;  then  gazing  at  her 
troubled,  beseeching  eyes,  he  encircled  her  with  his  arm, 
and  laying  his  face  close  to  hers,  said  gravely  : 

"Remember,  my  little  daughter,  always  to  love  and 
obey  thy  mother.  She  is  the  wisest  and  best  friend  thee 
and  I  have." 


CHAPTER  II. 

AIRLIE. 

A  IRLIE,  Gilbert  Elgar's  farm,  was  one  of  the  oldest 
in  Maryland.  It  was  part  of  the  original  tract  of 
land  granted  by  the  Lord  Proprietary  of  the  Province  to 
the  Quakers,  who,  driven  from  'their  homes  beyond  the 
sea,  and  persecuted  in  each  successive  state  in  the  land  of 
their  adoption,  finally  found  rest  in  the  bosom  of  Mary- 
land, almost  the  only  state  in  that  day  willing  to  live  and 
let  live  in  the  matter  of  religious  tolerance.  After  George 
Fox  had  preached  upon  the  cliffs  of  the  Patuxent  and 
upon  the  banks  of  the  Severn,  "  giving  utterance  to  the 
Spirit  in  words  of  fire,  and  with  all  the  power  of  an 
apostle,"  it  was  only  a  little  time  before  a  community 
thus  planted  by  him  sprang  up,  grew  and  nourished. 
This  was  known  as  the  "  neighborhood  "  of  Drayton, 
receiving  its  name  from  the  birthplace  of  Fox.  But  by 
reason  of  another  Drayton  springing  up  in  the  State,  the 
name  of  the  neighborhood  was  changed  from  Drayton  to 
the  name  by  which  Fox's  old  home  is  known  to-day  in 
England — Fenny  Drayton,  and  of  this  same  neighbor- 


1 6  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

hood  Airlie  was  to-day  the  chief  ornament,  being  one  of 
the  largest  and  richest  farms  in  the  community. 

Old  John  Elgar,  Gilbert's  forefather,  had  been  among 
the  earliest  to  follow  Fox  to  this  country.  Not  for 
worlds  would  he  have  shown  to  his  fellow-settlers  the 
wrench  it  was  to  him  to  give  up  home  and  family  and 
pitch  his  tent  in  the  wilds  of  the  new  country  ;  and  the 
sweetest,  dearest  name  in  his  heart  was  the  name  of  his 
native  Scotch  village,  Airlie.  In  time,  as  his  new  home 
became  less  and  less  wild,  he  brought  out  the  name 
so  dearly  cherished  in  his  memory,  and  gave  it  to  the 
lonely,  quaint  home  in  the  woods.  In  a  few  years  a 
clustering  village  sprang  up,  just  across  the  fields  on  the 
edge  of  the  farm,  and  it,  too,  was  called  Airlie.  In  the 
long  gap  of  years  that  lay  between  the  simple,  rude  home 
in  the  woods  and  the  picturesque  Airlie  of  to-day,  with 
its  broad  acres  of  perfectly-tilled  land,  its  velvet  turf  and 
green  hedges,  nothing  was  left  but  its  name  to  recall  its 
primitive  days. 

Gilbert  Elgar  was  a  ruddy,  stalwart  man  of  fifty, 
having  enough  of  this  world's  goods  to  be  accounted 
rich  among  the  Friends.  He  had  always  taken  life 
easily.  It  was  whispered  in  the  neighborhood  that  in 
his  younger  days  he  had  been  inclined  to  be  wild,  but 
just  how  much  that  might  mean  among  the  Friends  could 
not  be  determined.  Certain  it  is  that,  Friend  though  he 
was,  he  had  always  been  an  indefatigable  and  rather  hard 
rider  to  hounds.  Next  to  his  wife  and  little  daughter, 


AIRLIE.  I/ 

his  horse  and  his  hounds  were  the  dearest  things  to  him. 
His  greatest  pleasure  had  always  been  to  take  Robin, 
when  only  a  mite  of  a  child,  on  his  horse  in  front  of  him 
and  with  his  dogs  start  off  for  a  long  chase  through  the 
country,  till  Robin  had  as  keen  an  ear  for  the  baying  of 
the  hounds  as  her  father,  and  could  tell  as  quickly  as  he 
from  their  tone  just  when  the  scent  was  hot  or  when  they 
sighted  the  fox.  Fox-hunting  has  ever  been  a  favorite 
amusement  in  Maryland,  and  the  Quakers  were  many  of 
them  as  keen  huntsmen  as  any  in  the  State.  Gilbert's 
father,  although  a  much  revered  preacher  in  Friends 
Meeting,  had  been,  incredible  as  it  may  seem,  a  de- 
voted fox-hunter  ;  and  some  of  the  old-time  Friends, 
who  were  more  cut-and-dried  in  orthodoxy,  had  been  in 
early  days  a  good  deal  scandalized  at  the  idea  of  a 
Quaker  giving  so  much  time  to  fox-hunting — especially 
a  preacher  in  Friends'  Meeting.  So  the  Monthly  Meet- 
ing had  had  '*  concern  on  its  mind,"  and  Gilbert's 
father  had  been  duly  admonished,  but  without  effect. 
As  the  years  went  on,  and  Gilbert  himself  followed  in  his 
father's  footsteps,  so  far  as  hunting  was  concerned,  the 
Meeting  did  not  interfere.  Gradually  their  forms  and 
customs  became  so  modified,  and  they  departed  so  much 
from  the  old  notions  as  to  what  were  considered  fitting 
amusements  for  Friends,  that  fox-hunting,  dancing  and 
even  the  theatre  were  no  longer  looked  upon  as  offences. 
When  in  time  Gilbert  began  to  teach  his  little  daughter 

to  love  hunting,  it  only  occasioned  a  shaking  of  heads, 
2 


i8  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

and  it  soon  became  a  familiar  sight  to  see  him,  with 
Robin  seated  on  his  saddle  in  front  of  him,  or  later 
trotting  along  on  her  own  horse  at  his  side. 

Fox-hunting  in  Maryland  was  no  dash  across  culti- 
vated country.  The  fox-hunter  had  more  long,  hard 
riding  to  do  than  dangerous  jumping,  requiring  endu- 
rance rather  than  daring  horsemanship.  His  horse  must 
have  bottom  above  speed  and  agility,  and  with  the  top 
rails  of  the  worm-fence  thrown  off  it  was  comparatively 
easy  for  Robin,  child  though  she  was,  to  follow  her  father 
on  his  longest  hunts,  and  she  was  his  inseparable  com- 
panion. Of  late  years  Gilbert  had  given  more  time  to 
hunting,  and  less  and  less  attention  to  his  farm.  Instead 
of  the  long  spring  and  summer  days  being  spent  in  watch- 
ful attendance  upon  the  farm  hands  and  close  scrutiny 
of  the  work  accomplished,  he  would  ride  out  under  the 
shade  of  a  tree  and  lazily  watch  for  a  time  the  corn-plant- 
ing, the  harvest,  or  wheat-sowing  as  the  case  might  be, 
then  slowly  turn  his  horse  towards  Airlie  village,  where 
he  would  fall  in  with  some  of  his  kindred  spirits,  and 
spend  several  hours  in  discussing  neighborhood  events 
or  the  local  politics  of  the  county,  leaving  home  affairs 
to  Dorothea  and  Kane. 

This  growing  indifference  of  Gilbert's  was  not  lost 
upon  Dorothea  :  it  was  becoming  a  source  of  anxiety 
and  increasing  pain  to  her.  Cast  in  a  sterner  mould  than 
her  husband,  and  with  a  strength  of  purpose  he  did  not 
possess,  she  gradually  took  upon  her  shoulders  the  respon- 


AIRLIE  19 

sibilities  that  he  shirked,  and  even  a  dullard  could  see 
that  she  was  the  controlling  spirit  at  Airlie  ;  but  so  gen- 
tle and  loving  was  her  sway  that  not  even  Gilbert  no- 
ticed that  she  had  taken  up  the  power  he  had  laid  down, 
nor  guessed  the  heavy  burden  of  responsibility  borne  by 
this  strong,  gentle,  gray-eyed  woman,  whose  firm  step 
passed  from  the  house  to  the  dairy,  from  the  dairy  to  the 
garden,  smoke-house  and  barn,  everywhere  save  to  the 
stables  and  fields. 

Kane  knew  and  marked  the  increase  of  care  upon 
his  mistress'  shoulders.  Born  and  raised  in  the  little 
log-house  in  the  dairy  field,  he  had  always  felt  a 
half-proprietorship  in  the  farm  and  all  that  belonged 
to  it,  and  he  had  the  same  love  and  veneration  for 
"  Mister  Gilbert  "  and  l<  Miss  Dorothy  "  that  many  of 
the  slaves  bore  to  their  owners  in  the  old  plantation  days. 
Kane  had  never  been  a  slave,  for  of  course  neither  Gil- 
bert nor  his  father  before  him,  nor  any  of  the  Friends  in 
the  neighborhood,  had  ever  owned  slaves  since  the  Balti- 
more Yearly  Meeting  of  1772  had  "borne  testimony 
against  slavery  "  ;  but  many  of  the  old  Quaker  home- 
steads of  Fenny  Drayton,  that  had  been  handed  down 
from  father  to  son,  retained  a  few  old-time  negroes,  who 
had  been  born  and  raised  on  the  place,  and  continued 
to  live  with  "  their  families,"  as  they  called  them.  Of 
such  was  Kane.  He  was  muscular  and  vigorous,  about 
forty  years  old,  and  with  a  certain  shrewdness  that  marked 
him  above  the  average  of  his  race.  He  had  many  quaint 


20  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

and  curious  turns  of  speech,  which,  while  not  amount- 
ing to  dialect,  were  essentially  negro.  He  was  Gilbert's 
reliance,  Dorothea's  mainstay  and  Robin's  special  de- 
light. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  child's  escapade  at  Meeting, 
Gilbert  was  in  his  usual  corner  of  the  porch,  smoking  his 
afternoon  pipe.  Adsum  and  Whack,  two  shepherd  dogs, 
were  lying  in  attitudes  of  semi-wakefulness,  waiting  for 
their  master  to  take  his  usual  First- Day  tramp  over  the 
farm.  They  wagged  their  tails  watchfully  every  time  he 
chanced  to  move  hand  or  foot.  Gilbert,  with  his  hat 
pulled  down  over  his  eyes,  smoked  on  with  no  thought  of 
them.  His  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  distant  meadow, 
and  there  was  a  distinct  frown  upon  his  brow.  From  the 
whole  expression  of  his  face  it  was  evident  that  some 
obstinate  and  unpleasant  thoughts  had  found  lodgment 
in  his  mind.  He  was  so  absorbed  in  his  meditations 
that  Dick  had  ridden  up  the  lane  and  dismounted  and 
the  dogs  had  rushed  out  to  meet  him  before  Gilbert  was 
roused  from  his  corner.  Instantly  a  bright  look  of 
pleasure  chased  away  the  frown.  Rising  up  and  knock- 
ing the  ashes  from  his  pipe,  he  hurried  down  the  steps 
and  across  the  grass  to  greet  Dick. 

Dick  had  been  taught  from  his  childhood  to  call  Gilbert 
and  Dorothea  uncle  and  aunt,  though  they  did  not  bear 
that  relation  to  him,  for  his  father,  Henry  Elgar,  had  been 
only  a  cousin  of  Gilbert's,  but  the  tie  between  the  two  men 
had  been  more  like  that  of  brothers  than  cousins.  They 
had  grown  up  together  and  loved  each  other  up  to  the  day 


AIRLIE.  21 

that  Henry  had  died,  a  disappointed,  heart-broken  man. 
Henry  Elgar  had  married  "out  of  Meeting,"  and  when  it 
had  first  become  known  that  he  was  going  to  choose  a 
wife  from  the  outside  world  the  usual  remonstrance 
from  the  Friends'  Meeting  had  followed  as  a  matter  of 
course,  but  to  no  avail,  and  he  had  been  disowned. 
Had  he  chosen  afterwards,  upon  proper  acknowledgment 
of  his  fault,  to  be  taken  back  into  the  Meeting,  it  would 
have  been  readily  acquiesced  in,  but  he  never  applied  ; 
and  his  little  son  was  taught  to  say  "  you  "  instead  of 
"  thee."  It  had  been  one  of  the  never-solved  mysteries 
why  he  had  married  the  worldly,  rich  New  England 
woman,  who  in  the  course  of  a  few  years  transformed 
him  from  the  happy  man  he  had  once  been  to  the  lonely, 
discontented  man  he  died.  The  simple  old  farm-house 
in  which  Henry  was  born,  and  which  had  always  been 
known  as  The  Meadows,  became  in  the  hands  of  the  rich 
wife  as  changed  as  he  who  owned  it.  The  moss-grown, 
hipped  roof  became  a  mansard,  bay-windows  swelled  out 
where  once  had  been  little  diamond  panes  of  glass,  the 
low-roofed  porches  became  conservatories,  the  wheat- 
fields,  that  had  stretched  their  golden  grain  on  all  sides, 
became  closely-clipped  lawns  ;  the  old  garden,  with  its 
hollyhocks,  sweet  alyssum  and  old-fashioned  china 
roses,  was  given  into  the  hands  of  a  landscape  gardener ; 
and,  lastly,  the  simple  old  name  of  "  The  Meadows  "  was 
changed  for  the  high-sounding  name  of  "  Ivanwold." 
And  with  this  last  change,  as  if  unable  to  bear  any  more, 
Henry  Elgar  died.  Then  his  wife  betook  herself  to  her 


22  GILBERT  ELGAR'S   SON. 

own  people,  taking  her  little  son  with  her.  Thus  it  was 
that  Dick  had  spent  half  of  his  boyhood  days  among  very 
different  surroundings.  Some  of  the  Friends  appointed 
from  the  Monthly  Meeting  had  made  an  effort  to  have 
Dick  kept  among  the  people  of  his  father's  faith,  and  to 
have  him  brought  up  "  in  Meeting,"  but  the  mother  would 
brook  no  interference,  only  promising  that  Dick  should 
spend  his  summers  at  Ivanwold.  After  a  few  years  she 
too  had  died,  and  Dick  found  himself  at  twenty  his  own 
master,  rich,  and  a  senior  at  Harvard  College,  with  all 
the  world  before  him,  and  an  ardent  desire  to  see  that 
world  and  take  his  place  among  men  of  culture  and 
learning. 

He  was  a  goodly  sight  in  Gilbert's  eyes,  as  he  swung 
himself  to  the  ground  ;  and  a  sigh  escaped  him  for  the 
simple  tragedy  of  Henry  Elgar's  life,  of  which  no  shadow 
seemed  to  rest  upon  the  son. 

"  Well,  Dick,  my  boy,  I  'd  about  given  thee  up,  and 
was  just  going  to  start  for  a  tramp  over  the  farm.  Will 
thee  come  too  ?  " 

"  Yes,  gladly.  Let  me  speak  first  to  Aunt  Dorothy 
and  Robin." 

"  I  think  Dorothea  is  having  a  nap,  but  here  comes 
Robin." 

"  Oh,  Dick,  I  thought  thee  was  never  coming.  I  am 
so  glad  to  see  thee,  and  so  are  the  dogs  ;  they  are 
wagging  their  tails  off  with  delight.  But  how  splendid 
thee  is  !  " 


AIRLIE.  23 

"  Splendid  !  how  so,  little  one  ?  But  have  n't  you  a 
kiss  for  Cousin  Dick  ?  " 

"  There,  Dick,  and  there,  and  one  to  grow  on  !  "  And 
Robin  kissed  him  emphatically  three  times  over,  then 
stood  a  little  away  and  gazed  admiringly  at  him. 

"  Father,  why  does  n't  thee  have  some  shiny  top-boots 
with  spurs,  and  some  knee -clothes,  and  a  stick  with 
a  hook  on  it  like  Dick's  ?  " 

"Why,  child,  how  does  thee  think  thy  old  father 
would  look  dressed  up  like  a  young  buck  ?  " 

"  Thee  'd  look  most  as  good  as  Dick  ;  would  n't  he, 
Dick  ?  " 

The  two  men  broke  into  a  hearty  laugh,  each  held  out 
a  hand  to  the  child,  and  the  three  turned  towards  the 
stables,  followed  by  Adsum  and  Whack.  They  first 
visited  the  kennels  where  the  hounds  were,  Robin  lead- 
ing the  way,  with  great  pride,  to  the  young  puppies. 
The  Maryland  fox-hound  was  not  a  beautiful  animal 
to  look  at  ;  such  tough  work  was  expected  of  him  that, 
in  order  to  obtain  an  enduring  and  cunning  beast,  at 
some  early  day  the  English  fox-hound  had  been 
crossed  with  the  Irish  stag-hound,  and  this,  with  an 
occasional  alliance  with  the  beagle,  produced  a  keen, 
bow-legged-looking  creature,  quite  a  match  for  rey- 
nard. 

"  There,  Dick,  look  ;  are  n't  they  beauties  ?  thee  can 
have  thy  pick  of  them,  though  the  one  with  the  brown- 
and-white  spots  is  the  one  I  've  chosen  for  thee," 


24  .  GILBERT   ELGAR  S   SON. 

"  Yes,  they  are  beauties,  little  cousin,"  Dick  said  ad- 
miringly ;  then,  turning  to  his  uncle,  he  asked  : 

"  Why  is  there  such  a  difference  between  Adsum  and 
Whack  ?  Adsum  seems  a  fine  fellow,  but  Whack  acts 
like  a  cur  ?  " 

At  this  allusion  to  Whack,  Gilbert  began  to  shake  with 
laughter  and  said  : 

"  Tell  him,  Robin,  about  Whack." 

"  Thee  sees,  Dick,  Whack  was  once  butted  over  by  a 
sheep,  and  he  's  never  been  any  good  since.  Whenever 
Adsum  drives  up  the  sheep  Whack  runs  and  hides,  and 
after  all  the  sheep  are  in  the  fold  then  Whack  comes 
out  and  wags  his  tail  valiantly,  and  he  does  n't  do  a 
blessed  thing  from  morning  till  night." 

"Why  not  get  rid  of  him,  uncle  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  like  him,  Dick  ;  he  's  original.  Dorothea  says 
he  reminds  her  of  me  ;  that  Whack  and  I,  whenever  any 
work  is  going  on,  help  just  as  the  clown  in  the  circus 
does." 

They  sauntered  down  the  narrow  back  lane  to  where 
the  fields  of  grain  lay  ripening  for  harvest.  Dick  looked 
admiringly  at  the  waving  fields  which  stretched  before 
them,  and  turning  to  his  uncle  said  : 

"  How  splendid  the  whole  farm  looks." 

Gilbert  was  leaning  his  arms  on  the  top  rail  of  the 
fence  which  separated  the  lane  from  the  fields,  and  was 
gazing  far  away.  At  Dick's  words  he  sighed  : 

"  Does  thee  think  so  ?     Somehow  I  fancy,  Dick,  that 


AIRLIE.  25 

things  are  running  behind  ;  the  crops  don't  seem  quite 
so  full  as  they  used  to  be,  and  I  sometimes  wonder  if  the 
land  is  wearing  out,  and  what  is  to  become  of  it  all  when 
I  'm  gone.  Oh,  Dick,  if  I  only  had  a  son  like  thee,  a 
strong,  broad-shouldered  son,  to  step  in  now  and  carry 
on  all  this  before  it  runs  behind  and  goes  down  hill  ! " 

Dick  looked  at  Gilbert  with  startled  eyes.  Never  had 
he  heard  him  complain  or  speak  in  this  strain  before. 
Laying  his  hand  affectionately  on  Gilbert's  shoulder,  he 
said  : 

"  Are  you  in  any  difficulties,  uncle  ?  You  know  all 
that  I  have  and  all  that  I  am  are  yours." 

Robin  was  forgotten.  She  stood  apart,  mute  and 
amazed,  listening  and  looking  from  Dick  to  her  father  and 
from  her  father  to  Dick  again. 

"  No,  Dick,  bless  thee,  I  am  in  no  really  serious  diffi- 
culties, but  I  feel  as  if  they  were  looming  up  before  me. 
I  am  sometimes  troubled  about  the  future  ;  I  've  grown 
old  and  lazy  and  unable  to  keep  the  grip  on  things  I  used 
to  have,  but  if  I  had  a  son  it  would  be  different." 

"  But,  uncle,  you  have  Aunt  Dorothy  and  Robin,  and 
you  have  in  Kane  an  efficient  head-man,  wholly  devoted 
to  you  and  to  Airlie." 

"  True,  Dick,  but  thee  sees  a  son  would  be  here  after 
me  to  inherit,  to  carry  on,  to  perpetuate.  Robin  is  only 
a  girl,  and  a  little  one,  who  will  grow  up  to  a  helpless 
womanhood  as  far  as  Airlie  is  concerned  ;  and  I  am  get- 
ting old." 


26  GILBERT  ELGAR*S  SON. 

Robin  stood  transfixed,  taking  in  the  half-bitter  words 
her  father  had  spoken,  and,  more  than  all,  taking  in 
his  clouded,  despondent  face.  Turning  swiftly  and 
silently  she  stole  away  unnoticed,  back  up  the  lane.  She 
crept  through  a  hole  in  the  fence  instead  of  springing 
over  with  a  bound,  her  hat  hanging  round  her  neck  by 
the  strings,  and  her  eyes  blinded  by  tears.  She  sat  down 
on  a  big  stone  to  try  to  understand  what  she  had  heard. 
Finally,  a  bright  thought  struck  her  ;  she  dashed  away 
the  tears,  jumped  up,  swung  open  the  gate  into  the  dairy- 
field,  and  running  all  the  way  down  the  zigzag  path,  made 
a  bound  over  the  stream  that  flowed  through  the  meadow 
and  landed  with  a  clatter  among  the  cows  and  milk 
buckets,  nearly  upsetting  a  bucket  of  warm  milk  which 
Kane  had  just  set  down  in  a  row  with  the  others. 

"  Good  Lord,  child,  what 's  the  matter  with  you  ?  You 
mos'  done  scairt  me  to  death.  An'  you  look  kin'  o' 
mean-sperited  an'  low-live-li-like." 

"  Kane,  aint  girls  just  as  good  as  boys  ? "  And  with 
her  eyes  shining  like  two  stars  with  expectation,  Robin 
turned  a  bucket  upside  down,  sat  down  on  it,  resting  her 
elbows  on  her  knees  and  her  face  in  her  hands,  and 
waited  eagerly  for  Kane  to  speak. 

"  I  don'  jes'  come  to  know  what  you  mean,  no  how, 
Miss  Rob." 

"  Aint  girls  and  women  just  as  much  account  in  the 
world  as  boys  and  men  ?  " 

"Well,  Miss,  I  don'  jes'  know  what  to  say  'bout  it.     I 


AIRLIE.  27 

'low  some  people  don"  think  wimen  an*  children  much 
'count  nohow.  Mought  be  they  is,  but  they  do  tell  of  a 
paper  some  w'er's  'bout  where  wimen,  children  and 
idiots  is  kin'  o'  spoken  together  in  a  breath." 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  Kane  ;  no  one  would 
ever  think  of  mother  and  little  crazy  Davy  in  the  village 
in  the  same  thought." 

"  Course  not,  Miss,  they  would  n'  dare  to ;  Miss  Doro- 
thy 's  worth  all  the  village  pu'  together." 

"  But,  Kane,  aint  I  just  as  much  good  on  the  farm  as 
if  I  'd  been  a  boy  ? " 

"  Lord,  yes,  a  darn'  sight  more.  Miss  Rob,  if  you  'd 
been  your  brother  there  had  n*  been  nary  a  bird's  nes* 
nor  a  cherry,  nor  nothin'  on  the  whole  place." 

"  There,  I  knew  it;  and  Kane  ?  "  Robin  thought  for  a 
long  time  in  a  puzzled  way,  then  in  a  slow,  hesitating 
voice  she  asked  : 

"I  don't  quite  understand,  Kane,  why  father  is  of 
more  account  than  mother ;  what  does  he  do  at  Airlie  to 
make  him  so  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  see,  Miss,  your  pa,  he  hunts,  an'  he — well, 
Miss,  he  's  your  pa  " ;  and  Kane  began  to  struggle  in 
deep  waters. 

"  Well,  then,  Kane,  I  don't  see  why  mother,  who  does 
every  thing,  is  of  less  use  or  account  than  father  ?  " 

"  There  ain'  nothin'  in  the  worl',  Miss  Rob,  that  makes 
your  ma  less  'coun'  than  your  pa,  an'  no  matter  what  no- 
body says,  don'  you  b'lieve  it,  honey  ;  she  takes  care  o' 


28  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

the  whole  pesky  lot  of  us  an'  this  yere  farm  to  boot. 
Who  's  been  troublin'  your  min',  honey  ? " 

Robin,  who  had  been  somewhat  diverted  by  Kane's 
defence  and  support,  now  again  reverted  to  her  father's 
words.  Her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  getting  up  from 
the  bucket,  she  said  : 

"  I  'm  going  up  to  the  house  and  ask  mother  all  about 
it."  And  off  she  started,  hitting  at  the  clover  tops  as 
she  went  along  with  a  stick  she  had  picked  up.  By  the 
time  she  reached  the  gate  the  tears  were  running  down 
her  cheeks  and  dropping  off  in  great  splashes.  Upon 
the  other  side  of  the  gate  stood  Adsum  waiting  for  her. 
He  pushed  his  nose  into  her  listless  hand  and  looked  up 
into  her  face  in  mute  sympathy  ;  he  followed  her  into 
the  house,  up  the  stairs,  and  when  Robin  burst  into  her 
mother's  room  he  was  still  at  her  side. 

"  Mother  dear,  why  was  n't  I  a  boy  ?  " 

"  Why,  my  child,  what  is  the  trouble  ?  thee  is  crying." 

"  Mother,  I  want  to  be  a  boy.  Father  said  he  had  no 
son  to  carry  on  things  like  Dick,  and  that  I  was  only  a 
girl,  and  that  I  'd  be  helpless  and  no  good  to  Airlie — 
Why  will  I  be,  mother  ? " 

"  When  did  father  say  all  this,  Robin  ? " 

"  Just  now,  down  the  lane  near  the  wheat-field  ;  Dick 
and  Adsum  both  heard  him.  What  did  he  mean, 
mother  ? " 

"  He  did  not  mean  any  thing  that  need  grieve  thee, 
dear  child  ;  father  loves  his  little  daughter  too  well,  and 
when  he  comes  in  he  will  explain  it  all  to  thee." 


AIRLIE. 


29 


"  But,  mother,  that  won't  change  things,  that  won't 
make  me  a  boy,  and  father  wants  a  boy." 

"  No,  that  won't  make  thee  a  boy.  Thee  must  know, 
Robin,  father  and  I  had  a  little  son  before  thee  was 
born,  and  when  he  died  it  was  a  great  grief  to  us  ;  and 
I  am  sure  father  was  only  thinking  of  that  when  he 
spoke." 

"  Oh,  mother,  why  has  thee  never  told  me  about  it 
before  ?  Are  all  those  little  clothes  thee  keeps  in  the 
cedar  chest  his  ? " 

"  Yes,  dear  child." 

"  I  always  thought  they  were  mine.  Let  me  go, 
mother.  Come,  Adsum." 

"  Where  is  thee  going,  child  ?  I  hear  father's  step." 
As  Dorothea  spoke  Gilbert  entered  the  room. 

"  Well,  Robin,  thee  got  tired  of  Dick  and  me,  and  so 
stole  off  up  here  ?  " 

Robin  did  not  answer,  but  stood  with  downcast  eyes. 

"  Gilbert,  Robin  has  heard  some  words  of  thine  which 
she  has  taken  to  heart ;  thee  must  explain  to  her  what 
thee  meant.  I  will  go  down  to  Richard  "  ;  and  she  left 
the  room. 

"  What  did  thee  hear  father  say  that  troubles  thee, 
Robin  ?  "  And  Gilbert  took  the  big  arm-chair  and  drew 
the  child  to  him.  She  hid  her  face  in  his  coat  and  said 
in  low  tone  : 

"  Tell  me  about  the  little  boy  thee  had  years  ago."  A 
look  of  pain  came  over  Gilbert's  face.  Folding  his 
arms  about  the  child,  he  said  tenderly  ; 


3O  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

"  Many  years  ago,  when  mother  and  I  were  young  peo- 
ple and  first  married,  we  had  a  little  boy  born,  and  as  he 
grew  and  began  to  creep  about  mother  and  I  thought 
there  was  nothing  in  the  world  like  him.  But  he  did  not 
live,  Robin,  and  our  hearts  were  nearly  broken.  Then 
for  eight  or  nine  years  we  had  nothing  but  his  memory 
to  gladden  our  hearts,  till  one  early  spring  morning, 
father  will  never  forget  it,  just  when  the  first  robins 
had  come,  thee  came  too  ;  and  I  called  thee  Robin  in 
my  heart.  Finally  I  told  mother  I  wanted  to  call  thee 
Robin.  She  did  not  like  it,  but  I  said  thee  must  be  my 
little  son  as  well  as  my  little  daughter.  So  mother  con- 
sented, and  from  the  time  thee  could  first  walk  thee  has 
gone  with  me  everywhere.  When  father  is  away  from 
thee  he  has  thee  ever  first  in  his  heart  ;  and  when  father 
said  he  had  no  son  like  cousin  Dick,  it  was  because  he 
he  was  troubled  in  his  mind  about  the  farm  and  other 
things." 

"  Father,  was  it  really  because  thee  thought  of  me  as 
thy  boy  that  thee  gave  me  a  boy's  name  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Robin." 

"  And  thee  loves  me  as  much  as  if  I  were  thy  son  ?  " 

"  More,  my  child." 

Robin  jumped  down  from  her  father's  knee,  drew  her 
slight,  childish  form  erect,  and  with  flushed  cheeks  and 
shining  eyes  said  solemnly  : 

"  Then,  father,  I  'm  going  to  be  thy  son,  now  and  for- 
ever." 


AIRLIE.  31 

Gilbert  looked  at  her  in  surprise,  and  realizing  that 
she  was  under  strong  excitement,  he  said  to  her  in  an 
every-day  tone  : 

"  Very  well,  little  one  ;  but  there  is  mother  calling  us 
to  tea  ;  wash  thy  face  and  smooth  thy  hair  ;  there,  that 
is  better  ;  now  come." 

At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  they  found  Dorothea  and 
Dick  waiting  for  them.  Dorothea  glanced  at  father  and 
child  anxiously,  and  lingered  till  Dick  and  Robin  had 
passed  into  the  big  old-fashioned  dining-room  ;  then  she 
said  in  a  low  tone  : 

"  Thee  must  be  careful,  Gilbert,  how  thee  speaks  when 
Robin  is  about  ;  she  is  a  queer  child,  with  queer  fancies, 
and  is  much  too  imaginative." 

"  Do  not  worry,  Dorothea,  about  her,  she  will  forget 
all  about  it  by  to-morrow." 

"  I  trust  so." 

And  they  followed  Robin  and  Dick. 


CHAPTER  III. 

AN    ALIEN. 

'"THE  soft,  cloudless  summer  night  which  succeeds  a 
warm  June  day  has  for  the  lover  of  the  country  a 
charm  indescribable.  Myriads  of  voices  that  have  been 
mute  during  the  long  hours  of  the  bright  sunshine  wake 
to  life  with  the  falling  of  the  shadows  and  the  dew,  and 
curious  are  the  sounds  of  the  homely  band  that  joyously 
sings  and  chirps  through  the  short  summer  night,  making 
a  sort  of  nature's  serenade  to  an  accompaniment  of  rust- 
ling tree-tops.  Gilbert  and  Dick  sat  smoking  on  the 
long  porch  in  silence,  listening  to  the  medley  of  sounds 
that  came  from  the  chirping,  winged,  insect  world,  aided 
occasionally  by  the  distant  cry  of  the  whip-poor-will. 
Supper  had  long  been  over.  Robin  had  kissed  them  all 
good-night,  including  Dick  and  Adsum,  her  two  prime 
favorites.  Dorothea  had  gone  up  with  the  child  to  give 
her  a  last  good-night  and  make  sure  that  she  was  none 
the  worse  for  her  fancied  troubles  of  the  afternoon. 

She  returned  after  a  short  absence  and  joined  the 
silent  pair  on  the  porch.     She  had  been  thinking  all  the 

32 


AN  ALIEN.  .         33 

afternoon  of  Dick  and  his  father,  and  of  the  old  days 
before  The  Meadows  became  so  grand.  It  had  been 
one  of  the  places  dear  to  her  heart,  years  ago.  She  saw 
herself,  a  mere  slip  of  a  girl,  going  across  the  fields  and 
over  the  stile  ;  sometimes  alone,  sometimes  with  De- 
borah, and,  dearer  still,  sometimes  with  Gilbert,  to  take 
tea  with  Cousin  Rebecca,  Henry's  mother.  She  remem- 
bered Deborah  as  she  had  been  in  the  old  days,  a  witty, 
quick-tempered  girl,  who,  it  had  been  whispered  about 
through  the  neighborhood,  had  cared  for  Henry  and 
might  have  married  him,  but  for  the  blight  of  cousinship. 
Then  she  thought  of  the  lonely,  sharp-voiced,  energetic 
Deborah  of  to-day,  who  after  Dick's  mother's  death  had 
been  asked  to  take  up  her  abode  and  rule  at  Ivanwold, 
until  Dick  should  choose  to  bring  home  a  wife.  Then, 
whimsically  enough,  she  thought  of  the  absurd  feud  that 
had  existed  between  Deborah  and  Gilbert,  who  for  the 
last  three  years  had  never  spoken  a  word  to  each  other 
directly,  but  who  whipped  each  other  smartly  over  other 
people's  backs  whenever  they  chanced  to  be  in  the 
vicinity  of  each  other,  and  all  because  of  a  difference. 
Finally,  her  thoughts  came  back  to  Dick  himself  ;  his 
wonderful  resemblance  to  his  father  :  the  same  crisp 
sunny  hair,  which  but  for  the  absurd  fashion  of  clipping 
so  short  would  curl  like  Henry's,  the  same  bright  blue 
eyes  and  ruddy  skin.  Dorothea  had  always  had  for  Dick 
a  tender  affection.  The  thought  that  he  might  drift  away 
from  them  as  he  grew  older  was  one  that  caused  her 


34  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

much  uneasiness.  She  was  afraid  that  the  memory  of 
his  father  was  too  dim  to  be  a  strong  enough  tie  to  bind 
him  to  the  neighborhood,  its  spirit  and  its  teachings. 
She  distinctly  felt  that  his  mother's  wealth  and  the  ambi- 
tion and  worldliness  imbibed  from  her  might  develop  in 
him  and  make  it  impossible  for  him  to  settle  down  at 
Ivanwold  contentedly.  She  did  not  much  wonder  that 
Dick  showed  little  attachment  for  the  place,  for  it  had 
never  been  any  thing  like  a  home,  in  her  opinion,  after 
his  mother's  wealth  had  transformed  it,  and  neither  she 
nor  Gilbert  ever  went  there  nowadays,  if  they  could  help 
it.  At  last  Dorothea  broke  the  long  silence  : 

"  Richard,  how  is  Deborah  getting  on  at  Ivanwold  ? 
Does  she  seem  contented  with  the  new  home  ? " 

"  She  seems  perfectly  contented,  aunt.     Cousin  Deb 

is  the  most  active,  driving  woman  I  ever  saw,  and  though 

she  has  been  there  only  a  few  months,  she  seems  to  have 

the  reins  thoroughly  in  her  hands." 

"  She  will  remain,  I  suppose,  till  thee  brings  home  a 

wife,  Richard  ? " 

"  Well,  Aunt  Dorothy,  I  don't  know  about  a  wife,  or 

whether  I  shall  even  live  at  Ivanwold  much  of  the  time. 

I  have  been  thinking  that  perhaps  I  might  as  well  sell  the 

place  some  day." 

There  was  a  painful  silence  after  Dick  had  spoken. 

Dorothea  realized  with  a  sinking  heart  that  Dick  was 

lost  to  them  already,  that  any  effort  to  keep  a  hold  upon 

him  would  be  vain. 


AN  ALIEN.  35 

"  Does  thee  mean,  Richard,  that  thee  will  actually  sell 
the  home  that  thy  father  loved,  the  home  that  he  and  thee 
were  born  in,  the  home  that,  years  ago,  thy  grandfather 
worked  so  hard  to  make  for  thee  and  thine  ?  " 

"  Don't  put  it  that  way,  aunt.  Mother — Yes,  I  know, 
Aunt  Dorothy,  you  never  had  any  opinion  of  mother, 
but  I  must  speak  of  her.  You  know  Ivanwold  was  left 
unconditionally  to  her,  and  she  meant  to  sell  it  before 
she  died.  You  know  I  have  never  really  lived  at  Ivan- 
wold  since  father's  death.  I  never  knew  much  of  the 
place  until  after  it  was  remodelled,  so  that  the  asso- 
ciations so  dear  to  you  and  uncle  are  little  to  me.  If 
father  had  lived  till  I  grew  up  it  would  have  been  a 
different  matter  ;  I  would  probably  have  had  a  deep  and 
lasting  attachment  for  the  place.  But  as  it  is  it  seems 
unutterably  dreary  to  me,  and  not  in  the  least  like  home.  I 
feel  that  I  can  never  settle  there  permanently  ;  my  work 
and  life  will  be  out  in  the  world,  and  you  know  a  place  like 
Ivanwold  cannot  go  on  year  after  year  with  no  master." 

"Then,  Dick,"  broke  in  Gilbert  in  a  loud,  impatient 
voice,  "  do  we  understand  that  thee  means  to  cut  loose 
from  the  Society  of  Friends  among  whom  thee  was  born  ? 
that  thee  means  to  cast  off  entirely  thy  father,  who  was 

born  a  Quaker  and  who  never  renounced  the  Spirit,  no 
i 

matter  how  much  he  departed  from  its  teachings  ?  Has 
thee  forgotten  that  it  was  his  dying  wish  that  thee  should 
keep  some  hold  upon  the  neighborhood,  that  thee  should 
spend  half  thy  time  here  ? " 


36  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

"  No,  uncle,  I  have  not  forgotten  it  ;  there  can  be  no 
talk  of  my  renouncing  the  Society  of  Friends,  because  I 
never  belonged  to  it  ;  for  surely  you  must  bear  in  mind 
that  at  the  time  father  and  mother  were  married  the 
Meeting  was  very  censorious ;  it  carried  out  its  very 
severest  measure  in  disowning  father,  all  because  mother 
was  not  a  Friend  and  because  they  were  married  by  a 
minister  of  the  gospel.  You  must  not  forget  their  action 
in  the  matter  simply  because  times  have  changed,  and  be- 
cause this  old  rule  is  no  longer  observed.  You  know 
father  never  made  any  effort  to  be  taken  back  or  to  have 
me  brought  up  in  Meeting.  He  died  outside  its  pale.  I 
have  grown  up,  in  consequence,  very  differently.  I  cannot 
think  I  am  to  be  blamed  for  this.  Surely,  you  must  know 
that  nothing  can  ever  shake  my  love  for  you  and  Aunt 
Dorothy,  or  make  me  loosen  one  jot  the  tie  that  binds 
me  to  you.  Why,  Aunt  Dorothy,  you  are  the  only  person 
in  all  the  world,  not  even  excepting  my  mother  were  she 
living,  to  whom  I  always  turn,  to  whom  as  a  boy  I  could 
always  tell  any  boyish  mischief  and  be  sure  of  gentle 
forgiveness." 

Dick  had  spoken  with  considerable  heat  and  with 
evident  feeling,  but  in  spite  of  it  his  words  sounded 
selfish  to  other  ears. 

"  But,  Richard,"  Dorothea  said  anxiously,  "  thee  is 
going  out  into  the  world  ;  thee  says  thee  is  going  to  sell 
thy  home  ;  how  can  the  tie  be  kept,  save  in  Gilbert's 
and  my  heart  ?  Thee  will  have  friends  in  the  great 


AN  ALIEN.  37 

world,  thee  will  make  new  ties,  and  this  little  green  spot 
here  in  Maryland  where  thy  father  and  thy  race  lie 
buried  will  be  forgotten.  It  has  ever  been  so  since  the 
world  began." 

"  Of  course,  Aunt  Dorothy,  you  and  uncle  must  not 
get  an  idea  that  I  am  going  to  do  any  thing  rash.  I  have 
made  no  definite  plan,  and  by  the  terms  of  mother's 
will  I  can  do  nothing  for  several  years  yet." 

"  What  are  thy  plans  for  the  future,  beyond  selling 
Ivanwold  ?  "  Gilbert  asked  abruptly. 

"  Well,  uncle,  after  I  am  graduated,  which  will  be  in  a 
year  from  now,  I  have  an  idea  of  going  abroad  for  a  few 
years.  I  find  my  taste  and  desire  are  towards  science, 
and  I  may  go  to  Heidelberg  to  study  under  Rosenbusch." 

"And  who  is  Rosenbusch,  may  I  ask  ?  " 

"  He  is  one  of  the  great  living  authorities  upon  a 
certain  branch  of  geology." 

"  And  after  Rosenbusch,  what  then  ?  " 

"Why,  I  should  hope  to  go  into  the  field,  and  would  be 
prepared  for  any  work  in  that  line." 

"  And,  Richard,  will  thee  grow  up  to  manhood  and  old 
age  with  no  Christian  faith  ?  If  thee  cuts  loose  from  all 
old  ties,  what  safety  is  there  for  thee,  tempted  as  thee 
will  be  by  the  world  ?  " 

"  Aunt  Dorothy,  I  go  to  my  mother's  church,  but  if 
you  mean  to  ask  if  I  am  ever  likely  to  join  the  Friends, 
Meeting,  my  answer  is  emphatically,  never.  Quakerism 
is  beautiful  for  the  women  in  the  community,  but  it  is  a 


38  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

devilish  hard  grind  on  the  men.  I  beg  your  pardon,  I 
mean  no  disrespect  to  you  and  uncle  by  speaking  so 
strongly,  but  when  I  look  about  upon  the  young  men 
here  in  the  neighborhood,  there  is  hardly  a  real  go-a- 
head man  among  them,  and  scarcely  one  whose  mother 
or  sister  is  not  his  superior  in  culture." 

"  Oh,  my  boy,  how  rashly  thee  judges,  and  thee  speaks 
beyond  thy  knowledge  ;  but  I  know  the  uselessness  of 
words  :  nothing  was  ever  gained  by  talking  when  the 
gulf  to  be  crossed  is  as  wide  and  as  deep  as  this,  but  I 
trust  thy  hot  words  only  spring  from  the  thoughtlessness 
of  youth.  When  thee  is  older  thee  may  think  differently. 
But  for  the  sake  of  thy  dear  father,  whom  we  both  loved, 
and  for  the  memories  that  cluster  about  The  Meadows, 
do  not,  I  beg  of  thee,  part  with  the  old  home.  Keep  it ; 
in  years  to  come  it  may  prove  a  refuge  to  thee  and 
thine." 

Dick  rose.  The  conversation  had  lasted  a  long  time 
and  the  night  was  late.  As  they  stood  for  a  moment 
under  the  eaves  at  parting,  they  were  subdued  and  sad. 
Dick  bent  and  kissed  his  aunt  gently,  and  said  in  a  low 
tone  : 

"Don't  think  hard  of  your  boy,  Aunt  Dorothy." 

"  I  never  could  do  that,  Richard  "  ;  and  they  parted. 

Gilbert  went  out  with  him  in  silence  to  where  his  horse 
was  tied  ;  the  two  men  grasped  hands  for  a  silent  mo- 
ment, then  Dick  mounted  and  clattered  down  the  lane, 
his  horse's  hoofs  resounding  on  the  pike  long  after 


AN  ALIEN.  39 

Dorothea  and  Gilbert  had  entered  the  house.  As  they 
went  into  the  sitting-room  Dorothea  laid  her  hand  on 
Gilbert's  arm  and  said  : 

"  We  have  lost  our  boy,  Gilbert." 

"  Yes,  wife,  we  have  lost  him  ;  what  could  we  expect  ? 
Oh,  the  mischief  that  miserable  woman  has  done  !  She 
came  here  to  our  peaceful  neighborhood,  alienated 
Henry  from  his  friends,  set  everybody  by  the  ears, 
nagged  and  worried  him  into  his  grave,  and  finally 
planted  in  that  boy's  heart  the  seeds  of  selfishness  and 
worldliness." 

"  Hush,  Gilbert ;  it  is  wicked  to  speak  such  words  of 
the  dead.  We  must  accept  what  is,  and  make  what  we 
can  of  the  living." 

"  Dorothea,  next  to  thee  and  Robin  Dick  is  the  dearest 
thing  to  me.  Before  Henry  died  he  said  to  me, '  Bert ' — 
thee  knows,  Dorothea,  that  was  my  name  from  the  time 
we  were  boys  together — '  Bert,  I  leave  Dick  in  thy  care  ; 
keep  him  as  much  with  thee  as  thee  can  ;  I  have  done 
wrong  in  not  asserting  my  influence  and  the  influence  of 
my  people  over  him,  but  he  is  young  ;  his  mother  prom- 
ises he  shall  spend  half  of  his  time  here  in  Fenny  Dray- 
ton.  Do  thee  try,  Bert,  to  make  a  simple,  manly  man  of 
him '  ;  and  now,"  continued  Gilbert,  with  rising  emotion, 
"  he  comes  back,  and  the  first  step  he  talks  of  taking 
when  he  has  the  power  is  to  sell,  to  sell  the  home  his 
father  and  grandfather  were  born  in.  The  selfish  young 
dog  !  It  is  enough  to  make  Henry  turn  in  his  grave." 


40  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

"  Gilbert,  thee  will  think  differently  after  a  while  ;  we 
shall  lose  all  influence  over  him  if  we  show  anger  towards 
him.  Remember  how  young  he  is  ;  Richard's  heart  is  in 
the  right  place,  let  us  keep  his  love  and  we  can  do  much 
with  him  "  ;  and  as  she  spoke  she  began  to  straighten  the 
room  for  the  night,  while  Gilbert  seemed  lost  in  thought. 

"  There  is  something  else  I  wish  to  speak  about,  Gil- 
bert ;  I  am  worried  about  Robin." 

"  In  what  way  ?  " 

"  She  is  so  full  of  queer  fancies,  and  has  such  an  old 
head  on  her  shoulders,  and  she  takes  every  thing  so 
seriously  to  heart.  I  am  afraid  we  are  not  wise  in  our 
way  of  raising  her.  She  rushed  in  to-day  in  an  agony  of 
distress  because  she  was  not  a  boy.  She  had  heard  thee 
saying  something  to  Richard  ;  what  was  it  ?  " 

"  Nothing  much.  I  only  gave  expression  to  my  old 
lament  at  our  having  no  son,  and  I  forgot  the  child  was 
there  to  hear.  I  went  down  to  the  dairy  afterwards  to 
show  Dick  our  new  deep-water  troughs,  and  Kane  said 
she  'd  been  down  there  having  a  famous  argument  with 
him  about  the  superiority  of  boys,  and  Kane  seemed 
mightily  tickled  over  it  ;  he  remarked  to  me  with  a 
chuckle  that  '  Miss  Rob  was  more  peart  and  keen  to  go 
than  any  child  he  ever  had  set  eyes  on.'  Then  when  I 
came  up  here  I  saw  something  was  up,  and  after  thee 
went  down  to  Dick  I  explained  as  well  as  I  could  to 
Robin  that  after  we  had  lost  our  boy  I  had  called  her 
Robin  because  she  was  both  son  and  daughter,  and  it 
seemed  to  comfort  her  wonderfully." 


AN  ALIEN.  41 

"  Oh,  Gilbert,  how  could  thee  be  so  injudicious  as  to 
tell  her  such  a  thing  ?  It  may  put  some  strange  notion 
into  her  head  that  she  will  never  get  over.  I  ought  never 
to  have  let  thee  give  her  such  an  outlandish  name." 

"  Pshaw,  Dorothea ;  as  usual,  thee  's  climbed  a  hill 
before  thee  has  reached  it.  The  child  is  all  right ;  a  bit 
imaginative  at  times,  but  I  like  it ;  let  her  alone,  she  's  as 
sound  as  a  nut.  If  it  should  please  her  to  fancy  herself 
a  boy,  where  's  the  harm  ?  Mark  my  words,  she  '11  make 
a  remarkable  woman  some  day,  and  she  '11  be,  besides, 
the  bonniest  girl  in  all  old  Maryland." 

"  I  only  trust  it  may  be  so." 

There  was  a  pause ;  then  Gilbert  and  Dorothea  sat 
with  folded  hands  and  down-bent  heads,  in  silent  grace. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

GILBERT'S  WORDS  BEAR  FRUIT. 

OECOND-DAY  morning  dawned  bright  and  warm, 
and,  as  was  the  custom  each  morning,  Robin  was 
made  ready  for  school.  She  had  looked  very  sedate  and 
grave  all  through  breakfast  ;  her  gray  eyes  had  been 
fixed  again  and  again  upon  her  father's  face,  only  to 
look  away  if  there  seemed  a  chance  of  attracting  his 
notice.  The  two-wheeled  cart,  with  Kane  for  driver, 
stood  at  the  stepping-stone  ready  for  her.  She  slowly 
put  her  books  into  an  old  baize  satchel,  tied  on  her  hat, 
picked  up  the  little  lunch-basket  which  contained  her 
mid-day  dinner  and  trudged  out  to  the  cart.  They 
jolted  and  swung  along  over  the  same  road  they  had 
traversed  the  day  before  coming  from  Meeting,  for 
"Charlie  Forest,"  with  its  historic  branches,  its  dense 
shade  and  thick  underbrush,  had  sheltered  for  fifty  years 
the  little  unpainted,  peaked-roofed  school-house  with  its 
play-ground,  as  well  as  the  Meeting-house  with  its  en- 
closed ground  for  the  dead.  Robin  had  been  a  little 
late  in  starting  from  home  that  morning,  and  when  they 

42 


GILBERT'S  WORDS  BEAR  FRUIT.  43 

stopped  before  the  school-house  door  it  was  evident 
from  the  rise  and  fall  of  voices  in  unison  that  the  first 
exercises  of  the  day  had  begun.  She  hurried  in  and 
Kane  drove  rapidly  home. 

Several  hours  later,  just  as  the  great  bell  at  Airlie  had 
struck  the  noon  hour,  Dorothea,  who  had  come  out  on 
the  porch  to  rest  a  moment,  saw  a  small  speck  far  down 
the  distant  lane.  She  went  to  the  steps  and  shaded  her 
eyes  with  her  hands.  It  was  surely  a  child,  coming 
slowly  and  wearily  towards  the  house.  She  waited  a 
moment  to  be  sure,  then  stepped  quickly  over  the  soft 
grass.  It  was  Robin,  with  her  satchel  dragging  along  in 
one  hand,  her  lunch-basket  untouched  in  the  other  ;  her 
shoes  white  with  the  dust  of  the  long,  tedious  three 
miles,  her  hair  disordered  and  in  damp  ringa.  on  her 
heated  forehead,  from  which  her  hat  had  been  pushed  to 
the  back  of  her  head  ;  but  in  spite  of  the  weary  gait,  the 
heated,  exhausted  appearance  of  the  little  figure,  there 
was  an  undaunted,  resolute  air  about  her  as  she  met  her 
mother's  amazed  and  startled  eyes. 

"  What  ever  is  thee  home  again  for  at  this  hour  ?  how 
did  thee  get  here  ?  was  school  dismissed  ?" 

"  No,  mother,  school  was  not  dismissed  ;  I  have  come 
home  to  stay." 

"  Has  thee  misbehaved,  was  thee  sent  home  ?  " 

"  No,  I  just  came  of  myself,  mother." 

"  Thee  walked  all  the  way,  alone,  through  the  heat  and 
dust  ? " 


44  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

"  Yes,  mother." 

"  Come  into  the  house  with  me."  Dorothea  took  the 
satchel  and  lunch-basket  from  the  child  and  hurried  into 
the  house.  Robin  followed  with  lagging,  tired  steps. 
Dorothea  stepped  to  the  open  door  at  the  other  end 
of  the  wide  hall  and  called  : 

"  Gilbert !  Gilbert !  "  but  no  one  replied. 

Then  she  went  to  the  kitchen  and  told  Joppa,  one  of 
the  women,  to  "  go  to  the  village  and  ask  Mr.  Gilbert  to 
step  down  immediately."  She  then  hurried  back  to  the 
porch,  where  Robin  sat  dejectedly  in  her  father's  chair  in 
the  corner. 

"  Come  into  the  sitting-room,  Robin  ;  it  is  too  hot  out 
here."  She  took  off  the  child's  hat  and  dusty  shoes, 
wiped  off  her  heated  little  face  and  pushed  back  the 
damp  hair  with  cool,  gentle  fingers. 

"  I  want  some  water,  mother." 

"  Thee  must  not  have  any  water  as  heated  as  thee  is  ; 
I  will  get  some  pounded  ice  for  thee ;  lie  there  on  the 
sofa  and  rest ;  thee  must  not  try  to  tell  what  has  hap- 
pened till  father  comes." 

Dorothea  softly  closed  the  door  and  left  the  child  in 
the  half-darkened  room.  She  lay  there  a  long  time,  so 
long,  indeed,  that  when  she  awoke  from  a  nap  and  found 
her  mother  patiently  fanning  her  she  sat  bolt  upright, 
looked  about  confusedly,  and  said  in  a  puzzled  way  : 

"  Is  it  yesterday  in  the  afternoon  or  is  it  to-morrow 
morning,  mother  ? " 


GILBERT'S  WORDS  BEAR  FRUIT.  45 

Not  knowing  how  to  reply  to  this  not  very  lucid  ques- 
tion, Dorothea  ignored  it  and  said  : 

"  Now,  my  child,  thee  must  tell  us  why  thee  came 
home  from  school  in  such  an  extraordinary  way."  As 
she  spoke  Dorothea  stepped  to  the  door  and  called 
Gilbert.  The  child  looked  half-frightened  as  her  parents 
confronted  her  so  gravely,  but  soon  the  same  resolute 
look  that  she  had  worn  when  she  trudged  up  the  dusty 
lane  came  into  her  eyes,  her  grievances  rushed  into  her 
mind  and  she  began  in  a  half-defiant  tone  : 

"  It  was  no  use  to  stay  in  school.  I  don't  like  it,  and  I 
do  not  want  ever  to  go  there  again." 

"  Why  does  n't  thee  like  school  ?  thee  has  been  so 
happy  there  all  the  winter  and  spring  ;  what  has  changed 
thee  ? " 

"  Well,  father,  look  at  my  books  ;  Cousin  Dick  does  n't 
study  out  of  such  books  at  his  school  ;  "  and  Robin 
eagerly  picked  up  the  satchel  which  her  mother  had 
hastily  dropped  in  a  chair,  and  pulled  out  a  well- 
thumbed,  dog-eared,  yellow-covered  spelling-book,  com- 
piled by  a  good  old  Friend  many  years  ago. 

"  Now,  father,  Dick's  books  don't  have  this  in  them, 
for  I  asked  him,  and  he  told  me  so  "  ;  and  she  began  to 
read  in  an  eager  voice  : 

'  We  had  a  red  cow,  and  a  fat  pig.  Ann  and  Jane 
spell  their  lessons  well,  they  will  soon  learn  to  read  and 
to  spell  out  of  books  as  well  as  in '"  ;  and  she  gazed 
contemptuously  at  the  book. 


46  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

"  But,  Robin,  Richard  had  to  read  and  spell  out  of 
such  a  book  when  he  was  little  like  thee." 

"  But,  mother,  he  never  went  to  school  in  Fenny  Dray- 
ton  ;  he  never  had  a  hateful  yellow  spelling-book,  and 
the  teacher  did  n't  call  him  '  Robina,'  which  thee  knows 
is  n't  my  name  ;  and  I  want  to  grow  up  just  like  Dick. 
I  want  to  study  big  books  like  his,  and  have  short  curly 
hair,  and  a  stick  with  a  hook  on  it,  when  I  go  hunting." 

"  But,  Robin,  thee  will  never  have  short  curly  hair  like 
Richard's,  because  he  is  a  grown  man,  while  thee  is  a 
little  girl." 

"  No,  mother,  no,  I  'm  not  a  little  girl  any  more  ;  I  'm 
thine  and  father's  little  boy.  I  am  going  to  grow  up  a 
man,  to  take  care  of  thee  and  father,  and  the  farm  and 
dogs  and  every  thing,  and  I  am  not  going  to  school  any 
more  down  there  where  they  sing  their  lessons  to  a  tune, 
and  where  the  teacher  calls  me  '  Robina.' ' 

She  began  to  sob  as  if  her  heart  would  break,  as  she 
buried  her  hot  little  face  in  the  worsted  sofa  pillow. 
Dorothea  and  Gilbert  exchanged  glances.  Gilbert  shook 
his  head  in  bewilderment  at  the  situation.  Dorothea 
spoke  in  an  undertone  : 

"  I  fear  me  I  will  have  no  easy  task  to  undo  thy  work 
and  pluck  up  the  seeds  thee  has  sown  in  her  mind  ; 
thee  had  best  leave  me  to  deal  with  her  now." 

"  Why  did  thee  send  for  me  at  all  ?  " 

"  Because  I  shall  need  thee.  I  never  thought  of  things 
taking  this  turn,  and  the  child  must  first  be  soothed  and 


GILBERT  S   WORDS   BEAR   FRUIT.  47 

then  reasoned  with.  I  can  best  manage  that,  but  do  not 
go  out  of  call,  for  thee  will  have  to  go  and  explain  Rob- 
in's absence  to  the  teacher." 

Gilbert  went  out  to  his  refuge  on  the  porch,  and  Do- 
rothea led  the  tired,  excited  child  up-stairs,  talking 
soothingly  and  cheerfully  of  all  sorts  of  things.  She 
undressed  her  and  put  her  on  her  cool  little  bed  in  the 
room  adjoining  her  own,  then  went  down  and  with  her 
own  hands  prepared  some  dinner  for  her  and  carried  it 
up,  after  which  she  stayed  quietly  until  the  fatigue  and 
exhaustion  of  the  long,  dusty,  hot  walk  had  made  Robin 
sink  into  a  deep  sleep  in  which  her  longings  to  be  a  boy, 
and  to  have  curls  like  Cousin  Dick's,  were  forgotten. 

Meantime  a  long  talk  between  the  parents  ensued.  It 
was  decided  that,  as  the  village  school  would  close  for 
the  summer  in  the  course  of  a  week  or  two,  Robin  should 
not  be  sent  back.  By  the  time  the  autumn  term  began 
she  would  doubtless  have  recovered  from  her  grievances 
and  would  have  forgotten  her  father's  words  on  First- 
Day,  which  were  at  the  bottom  of  it  all.  Dorothea  alone 
knew  and  realized  what  an  impressionable  and  sensitive 
nature  Robin  possessed.  She  remembered  that  many 
little  things  idly  spoken  by  herself  and  Gilbert  were 
often  brought  out  and  questioned  by  Robin,  months  af- 
terwards, showing  a  peculiar  tenacity  of  mind  unusual  in 
a  child  ;  and  the  mother  felt  that  it  would  take  time  to 
uproot  the  idea  that  had  taken  possession  of  her  during 
the  last  twenty-four  hours. 


48  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

The  next  few  days  passed  tranquilly.  Robin  was  a 
trifle  languid,  and  showed  very  little  interest  in  any  thing, 
but  her  mother  attributed  it  to  the  over-exertion  of  the 
long  walk.  She  was  tempted  to  revoke  her  decision 
about  hunting,  but  then  she  reflected  that  obedience 
must  be  taught  at  all  hazards,  and  that  it  would  not  do 
to  pass  over  Robin's  behavior  at  Meeting  on  First-Day  ; 
so  she  tried  to  devise  new  interests  for  the  child.  She 
took  her  to  the  dairy  with  her,  and  let  her  make  innu- 
merable pats  of  butter,  and  laughed  heartily  with  Robin 
when  it  was  discovered  that  she  had  forgotten  the  salt. 
In  a  day  or  two  Dorothea  began  to  feel  that  her  plan  of 
keeping  the  child  by  her  side  day  and  night  was  succeed- 
ing, and  that  she  had  not  taken  things  so  seriously  as  had 
been  fancied. 

The  weather,  which  had  been  bright  and  warm,  sud- 
denly changed  ;  a  cold  rain  set  in,  the  chickens  stood 
about  under  the  sheds  and  porches,  in  drooping,  draggled 
condition,  and  Whack  safely  housed  himself,  leaving  Ad- 
sum  to  shake  off  the  rain  as  best  he  could  when  he  drove 
up  the  cows  and  sheep.  The  brilliant  June  roses  had 
been  beaten  down  by  the  pitiless  downpour,  and  their 
bright  leaves  lay  scattered  all  over  the  dripping,  sodden 
garden.  The  young  turkeys  which  had  just  hatched 
were  brought  into  the  house  and  were  huddled  in  a  soft, 
twittering  mass  in  the  bottom  of  an  old  basket  in  the 
outer  kitchen.  Dorothea  was  absorbed,  with  the  help  of 
Joppa,  in  trying  to  save  the  lives  of  some  young  ducks 


GILBERT'S  WORDS  BEAR  FRUIT.  49 

which  had  been  found  complacently  and  placidly  drown- 
ing, their  heads  turned  up  to  the  sky  and  mouths  wide 
open  drinking  in  the  heavy  rain-drops  after  the  manner 
of  their  kind.  So  intent  was  she  on  her  work  that 
Robin  was  forgotten.  The  child  was  lying  full-length 
on  the  rug  in  front  of  a  crackling  fire  in  the  sitting-room, 
her  elbows  resting  upon  the  floor  and  supporting  her  face. 
She  was  staring  into  the  fire,  watching  the  little  tongues 
of  flame  wrap  themselves  round  each  stick  in  the  big 
fire-place.  She  saw  with  delight  how  brightly  and  easily 
they  burned. 

The  dancing  flames  seemed  to  suggest  some  thought 
to  her,  for  the  delight  died  out  of  her  face,  she  became 
grave  and  preoccupied  and  drew  herself  to  a  sitting 
posture,  with  her  hands  clasped  round  her  knees. 
Finally  she  rose,  and  so  intent  was  she  that  she  did  not 
hear  Adsum  scratching  at  the  door  to  come  in.  She 
went  softly  across  to  the  old  wooden  part  of  the  house 
and  tiptoed  down  the  narrow  passage  and  up  the  wind- 
ing stairs  till  she  reached  the  attic.  This  attic  extended 
over  the  whole  of  the  wooden  end  of  the  house.  It  was 
an  immense  room,  with  eight  dormer  windows,  which 
in  pleasant  weather  let  in  a  flood  of  light.  It  looked 
bright  and  cheerful  even  on  this  dark,  rainy  day.  It  was 
evident  that  it  had  been  given  over  to  Robin  for  a  play- 
room. All  manner  of  toys  in  more  or  less  advanced  stages 
of  decrepitude  were  to  be  seen,  not  scattered  about  as 

most  children's  toys  are,  but  arranged  in  precise  order. 
4 


50  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

One  end  of  the  room  was  finished  off  with  Kane's  rude 
carpentering  into  a  playhouse.  Robin  gazed  all  about 
her  lovingly.  She  looked  over  every  toy,  and  gazed  long 
and  tenderly  into  the  staring,  unmeaning  faces  of  several 
dolls  in  their  various  stiff -jointed  attitudes.  She  counted 
them  all  over  to  see  that  they  were  all  there  ;  then  she 
singled  out  one,  an  old-fashioned  plaster-of-Paris  baby 
with  its  head  on  a  pivot,  so  that  it  would  turn  and  even 
wobble  about.  This  she  dressed  anew  and  kissed 
lovingly,  then  hung  it  over  her  shoulder  and  proceeded 
to  the  short  ladder  which  led  up  to  a  loft  over  the  attic. 
She  climbed  up,  pushed  aside  the  trap-door,  and  thrust 
the  doll  through  the  opening  as  far  as  she  could.  Then 
hurriedly  scrambling  down,  she  gathered  up  in  the  skirt 
of  her  frock  the  remaining  dolls,  together  with  all  the  rest 
of  her  toys,  and  with  a  hasty  parting  look  she  hurried  back 
to  the  sitting-room,  where,  without  a  pause,  she  flung 
them  all  in  upon  the  burning  logs,  which  flashed  up  into 
new  life  at  this  addition.  She  stood  in  a  grim  attitude 
and  watched  them  curl  up  and  crackle. 

As  the  last  distinguishing  thing  about  them  disap- 
peared, a  tremulousness  of  the  whole  slight  figure 
betrayed  that  she  was  not  unmoved,  and  that  some  well- 
defined  resolve,  rather  than  childish  caprice,  had  caused 
the  wholesale  destruction  of  what  had  been  one  of  her 
chief  delights.  She  was  at  last  distracted  from  the 
flames  by  Adsum,  who  had  added  a  low,  entreating  whine 
to  the  scratching  at  the  door.  Robin  let  him  in,  and  as 


GILBERT'S  WORDS  BEAR  FRUIT.  51 

he  shook  the  rain  from  his  shaggy  back  and  lay  down 
before  the  fire,  she  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck  and 
sobbingly  told  him  what  she  had  done  ;  but  she  impressed 
upon  him  that  it  was  a  profound  secret  from  mother ; 
she  should  not  tell  any  one  but  him  about  it,  and  he  must 
not  tell  any  one,  nor  even  look  knowing,  nor  wag  his  tail 
when  it  was  found  out.  As  if  he  understood  all  she 
said,  he  emphasized  each  of  her  pauses  by  a  thump  of 
his  tail  on  the  floor  in  token  that  he  would  guard  her 
secret. 

Several  days  later  when  Dorothea  slowly  mounted  the 
stairs  to  the  attic,  followed  by  Joppa  laden  with  cedar 
branches  which  were  to  be  packed  away  with  winter 
garments  in  chests  that  stood  in  a  row  against  the  low 
attic  wall,  she  noticed  at  once  the  change  in  the  appear- 
ance of  the  room.  Nothing  remained  of  the  playhouse 
but  the  bare  boards  ;  not  a  doll,  not  a  toy  was  to  be 
seen,  save  one  or  two  old-time  toys  that  had  belonged  to 
Gilbert  himself  when  a  child.  She  questioned  Joppa 
about  it,  but  Joppa  did  not  know  what  had  become  of 
"  Miss  Rob's  things."  Dorothea,  with  suspicion  fast 
gathering  in  her  face,  went  down  and  searched  out 
Robin,  whom  she  found  disconsolately  twisting  and 
untwisting  herself  in  the  rope  swing  that  was  hung  to 
the  bough  of  an  old  pear-tree  in  the  garden.  In  answer 
to  her  mother's  query  as  to  what  she  was  doing,  she  said 
she  "was  letting  the  old  cat  die."  Dorothea  called  her 
to  her  and  said  : 


52  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

"  Robin,  where  are  all  thy  playthings  gone  that  were 
in  the  attic  ?  " 

"  Don't  ask  me,  mother." 

"  But  mother  wants  to  know  where  they  are.  Where 
are  all  thy  dolls?" 

"  I  can't  tell  thee  any  thing,  mother ;  Adsum  is  the 
only  one  who  knows,  but  he  promised  not  to  tell  "  ;  and 
her  lip  quivered. 

"  But  I  insist  upon  thee  telling  me  what  thee  did  with 
them." 

"Oh,  mother,  they  are  all  dead,  and  I  cannot  bear 
it "  ;  and,  overcome  with  the  recollection  of  the  devour- 
ing fire  and  her  own  deed  of  destruction,  she  hung  her 
head  and  tears  trickled  down  her  cheeks  and  dropped  off 
like  so  many  big  rain-drops. 

Dorothea  waited  a  moment,  but  the  child  kept  silence, 
only  showing  that  she  was  not  unmoved  by  the  sobs 
which  shook  her.  The  mother,  ever  wise  where  her 
child  was  concerned,  forebore  to  press  any  further  ques- 
tions. She  was  discouraged,  for  she  recognized  that 
Robin  had  not  forgotten  one  jot  the  idea  that  had  taken 
possession  of  her :  she  had  deliberately  destroyed  her 
dolls  with  the  idea  of  putting  herself  away,  and  as  a  first 
step  towards  growing  up  a  man  and  looking  like  Cousin 
Dick. 


CHAPTER  V. 

BREAKING    THE    BAY    COLT. 

p\OROTHEA  had  a  worried,  sleepless  night  over  her 
little  daughter's  strange  behavior.  She  grieved 
to  think  that  with  the  putting  away  of  the  dolls  the  early 
childish  days  were  forever  gone.  She  blamed  herself  for 
not  having  thrown  Robin  more  with  children  of  her  own 
age,  and  in  the  long  hours  of  the  silent  night  she  tried  to 
devise  some  plan  to  turn  the  child's  mind  effectually 
into  a  bright,  new  channel.  She  thought  of  the  many 
children  growing  up  in  the  neighborhood,  all  more  or 
less  distantly  connected  with  Airlie  ;  for  the  Friends  were 
a  close  community  and  had  intermarried  to  a  great 
extent,  and  nearly  every  one  was  a  cousin  near  or 
remote,  or  a  cousin  by  courtesy  and  custom  when  no 
real  tie  existed.  Dorothea  thought  that  she  might 
throw  Robin  more  with  these  children,  or  it  might  be  a 
good  plan  to  try  what  change  would  do  ;  she  might  go  to 
Quarterly-Meeting  at  Deerfoot  and  take  Robin  with  her  ; 
there  were  plenty  of  children  at  Deerfoot  ;  and  yet  she 
remembered  with  a  pang  that  the  child  never  seemed  to 

53 


54  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

feel  at  home  with  other  children,  and  always  returned  to 
her  side  when  among  them.  Confused  with  these 
thoughts  she  at  last  fell  asleep. 

But  the  next  morning  the  matter  arranged  itself. 
After  breakfast,  Dorothea  had  just  unfolded  her  plan  of 
going  to  the  Deerfoot  Quarterly  -  Meeting  and  taking 
Robin  with  her  when  they  were  interrupted  by  the 
appearance  of  Dick,  driving  up  the  lane  in  his  new  cart, 
which  had  just  been  sent  from  town.  Neither  Dorothea 
nor  Gilbert  had  treasured  up  any  ill-feeling  towards 
Dick  because  of  the  conversation  of  the  few  nights  pre- 
vious. However  selfish  and  heartless  his  words  had 
struck  them  at  the  time,  the  feeling  had  not  been  nursed 
against  him,  and  it  was  with  the  same  warm-hearted 
greeting  that  they  went  out  to  meet  him.  They  in- 
spected the  new  cart,  the  like  of  which  had  not  been  seen 
in  the  neighborhood  before.  Robin  walked  all  around 
it,  taking  it  in  from  all  points. 

"  Is  n't  it  a  dandy,  Robin  ?  "  Dick  said. 

Robin  looked  from  the  cart  to  Dick,  whom  she  eyed 
with  grave  attention. 

"  Well,  Cousin  Dick,  it  is  n't  so  much  of  a  dandy  as 
thee  is,  but  I  like  it.  May  n't  I  have  a  ride  with  thee  ?  " 

"Yes,  little  woman,  I  Ve  come  expressly  for  you. 
Aunt  Dolly,  I  want  you  to  lend  Robin  to  me  for  several 
days.  Cousin  Deb  says  she  will  take  beautiful  care  of 
her ;  she  shall  sleep  in  Cousin  Deb's  room  and  we  won't 
let  her  out  of  our  sight.  Will  you  come,  Rob  ?  " 


BREAKING   THE   BAY   COLT.  55 

."  Oh,  Cousin  Dick  ! "  was  all  the  child  could  say,  as 
she  clasped  her  hands  and  turned  entreatingly  to  her 
mother.  , 

Dorothea  looked  at  the  flushed  cheeks  and  sparkling 
eyes,  and  felt  that  no  better  solution  of  the  difficulty  in 
her  mind  could  possibly  have  offered  itself  ;  but,  as  was 
always  her  custom,  she  turned  to  Gilbert  for  his  opinion. 

"  What  does  thee  think,  Gilbert  ?  " 

"  It  is  just  the  thing,  Dorothea." 

"  Then  I  may  go,  mother  ?  "  breathlessly  asked  Robin  ; 
and  without  waiting  for  a  reply  she  went  on  :  "  Oh, 
Dick,  I  love  thee ;  it  was  just  like  thee  to  think  of  me." 

"  That  's  right,  little  woman  ;  I  'm  going  to  break  the 
three-year-old  bay  colt,  which  you  shall  name." 

"  Richard,  thee  must  be  careful  of  Robin  and  not  let 
her  go  into  the  field  with  thee  when  thee  breaks  the  colt ; 
and  I  want  to  say  something  seriously  to  thee,  Richard." 

"All  right,  Aunt  Dolly  ;  just  so  you  don't  take  away 
the  little  maid  from  me.  It  is  deucedly  lonely  at  Ivan- 
wold. 

"  Now,  Richard,  I  've  told  thee  before  that  I  cannot 
permit  thee  to  call  me  Aunt  Dolly  ;  it  is  frivolous  and 
disrespectful  to  a  woman  of  my  years." 

"  A  woman  of  your  years,  Aunt  Dolly  ? "  and  Dick 
emphasized  "  Dolly,"  "  why  you  have  n't  a  line  in  your 
face,  nor  a  gray  hair  on  your  head,  and  you  are  the 
sweetest  aunt  a  fellow  ever  had."  With  that  Dick  lifted 
Dorothea  off  her  feet  in  his  strong  arms,  and  did  not 


56  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

release  her  till  he  deposited  her  gently  on  the  porch. 
Dorothea  looked  indignant  at  the  prank,  and  said  re- 
provingly : 

"  Richard,  it  is  not  becoming  in  thee  to  treat  me  with 
so  little  dignity  ;  I  despair  of  thee  ever  growing  up  to  be 
a  man  ;  thee  will  be  a  boy  all  the  days  of  thy  life,  if  thee 
is  six  feet." 

"  Oh,  mother,  thee  looked  so  funny  when  Dick  picked 
thee  up  ;  I  never  knew  thee  was  little  before." 

"  Come,  Dorothea,  if  Robin  is  to  go  back  with  Dick 
thee  'd  better  put  up  some  things  for  her,"  interrupted 
Gilbert.  "  Can  thee  carry  any  thing  in  that  top-heavy- 
looking  concern  of  thine,  Dick  ? "  he  asked. 

"Oh,  yes,  any  amount  of  pinafores,  Uncle  Gilbert." 

"  How  long  does  thee  want  Robin  to  stay,  Richard  ? 
we  cannot  spare  her  very  long." 

"  Well  let  me  see,  this  is  Wednesday  ;  let  me  keep  her 
until  Sunday  and  you  and  aunt  drive  down  after  Meet- 
ing, take  dinner  with  us,  and  bring  Robin  back  in  the 
afternoon." 

"  But,  Dick,  how  can  Deborah  and  I  ever  get  through 
a  dinner  together  ?  it  will  surely  be  a  case  of  the  Kilken- 
ny cats  ;  Deborah  has  n't  spoken  to  me  in  three  years." 

"  Never  mind,  uncle,  come,  and  the  rest  of  us  will 
enjoy  the  fun.  We  "11  agree  to  interfere  if  you  come  to 
blows." 

So  the  matter  was  left.  Joppa  was  sent  to  the  attic  to 
hunt  up  an  old-fashioned  carpet-bag,  in  which  were 


BREAKING   THE   BAY   COLT.  57 

folded  a  clean  frock  or  two,  and  with  a  note  from  Doro- 
thea to  Deborah  stowed  away  in  Dick's  pocket,  the 
preparations  were  complete.  At  the  last  moment  Robin 
was  missing,  and  not  till  both  mother  and  father  had 
called  her  loudly  did  she  appear,  explaining  that  she 
could  not  go  without  telling  Kane  good-bye,  and  kissing 
and  whispering  last  messages  to  Adsum.  At  last  Dick 
swung  her  up  to  the  high  seat,  and  with  the  bag  stowed 
away  under  their  feet,  they  started  off  at  such  a  pace  that 
Robin  had  to  grasp  her  hat  with  both  hands  to  keep  it 
from  being  blown  away.  Her  parents  stood  and  watched 
them  till  they  turned  into  the  pike  and  were  lost  to  view. 

The  drive  to  Ivanwold  was  all  too  short  to  the  child, 
who  enjoyed  the  high  seat,  the  swaying  motion,  and 
the  importance  of  being  at  Cousin  Dick's  side.  It  had 
seemed  only  a  moment  since  they  started  when  Dick 
jumped  her  to  the  ground  and  left  her  before  the  broad 
stone  steps,  and  she  sighed  to  think  it  was  so  soon  over. 
Deborah  came  hurrying  through  the  hall.  Her  plain, 
homely  face  lighted  up  at  sight  of  the  child,  whom  she 
kissed  heartily,  exclaiming  : 

"  Goodness,  child  !  how  much  thee  is  growing  like  thy 
mother." 

"  Oh,  Cousin  Deb,  does  thee  think  so  ?  I  want  to 
look  just  like  Cousin  Dick.  Does  thee  think  I  will  when 
I  grow  up,  if  I  try  hard  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  can't  tell  yet  ;  we  '11  have  to  wait  and  see. 
I  'd  rather  a  vast  sight  thee  looked  like  thy  mother  than 


58  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

like  all  the  handsome  Cousin  Dicks  put  together.  Why 
on  earth  does  thee  fancy  looking  like  Dick  so  much  ?  " 

"  Well,  Cousin  Deb,  he  's  so  big  and  bonny,  and  his 
eyes  are  so  blue  and  bright,  and  he  's  so  gentle.  I  think 
he  and  Adsum  are  the  two  nicest  people  I  know." 

"  Oh,  thee  does  ;  and  where  do  the  rest  of  us  come 
in  ?  After  Dick  and  Adsum,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Well,  Cousin  Deb,  of  course  mother  and  father  are 
the  best  in  all  the  world,  then  come  Dick,  Adsum,  Kane, 
and  thee." 

"  Fathers  above  us,  was  there  ever  such  a  child  !  "  and 
Deborah  untied  the  hat  from  the  child's  head,  secretly 
tickled  at  the  position  she  occupied  among  Robin's  fa- 
vorites. 

"  Come  into  the  house,  Robin,  and  I  will  show  thee 
Letitia  Penn." 

"  Oh,  do,  Cousin  Deb  ;  thee  's  been  promising  a  long 
time  to  show  her  to  me." 

In  a  few  moments  Deborah  came  into  the  room  bear- 
ing upon  a  cushion  a  curious-looking  object,  roughly 
carved  out  of  wood  into  the  semblance  of  a  doll.  It 
was  rudely  painted,  although  little  of  the  paint  remained 
visible.  Hair  had  once  adorned  its  head,  but  now  was 
all  worn  off,  save  for  a  fringe  just  above  the  forehead. 
It  was  dressed  in  a  faded  court  dress  of  delicate  bro- 
caded silver.  The  skirt,  even  though  the  glory  of  the 
coloring  had  long  since  departed,  still  stood  out  in  stiff, 
stately  folds.  The  waist  was  long  and  sharply-pointed, 


BREAKING   THE   BAY   COLT.  59 

and  displayed  an  expanse  of  wooden  shoulders  and 
bosom.  The  linen  garments  were  brown  with  age  and 
tattered  in  many  places.  The  long,  stiff,  wooden  legs 
did  not  terminate  in  feet,  but  were  left  mere  footless 
stumps. 

Robin  gazed  at  the  doll  with  speechless  interest ;  she 
touched  it  softly,  finally  ventured  to  take  it  up  from  the 
cushion  and  turn  it  over  and  over,  and  asked  in  an 
awe-struck  voice  : 

"  How  old  is  it,  Cousin  Deb.  ?  " 

"  Let  me  see  ;  it  must  be  quite  one  hundred  and  sixty 
years  old,  or  perhaps  more.  Does  thee  know  who  Wil- 
liam Penn  was,  Robin  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  he  was  a  Friend,  and  father  says  he  made 
a  great  many  treaties,  and  some  of  them  were  sharp 
bargains." 

"  Stuff,  child  ;  don't  thee  believe  it.  Thy  father  's  no 
business  to  talk  so  of  Penn.  Well,  after  William  Penn 
had  founded  Pennsylvania  and  gone  home  to  England, 
his  little  daughter  sent  this  doll  dressed,  just  as  thee 
sees  her  now,  in  the  court  dress  of  that  time,  over  to 
this  country  as  a  present  to  a  little  Quaker  friend  who 
lived  in  Pennsylvania.  There  were  no  dolls  made  in 
this  country  then,  and  the  doll  was  considered  very  mag- 
nificent, and  was  named  Letitia.  It  has  been  preserved 
and  handed  down  through  all  these  years,  and  has  finally 
come  to  me.  I  will  leave  it  either  to  thee  or  Dick,  be- 
cause thee  and  he  are  the  last  of  the  Elgars," 


60  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

"  Leave  it  to  me,  do,  Cousin  Deb  ;  I  have  n't  any 
dolls  at  all,  and  Dick  don't  care  for  dolls,  he  's  too  big." 

"  Well,  we  '11  see,  we  '11  see  ;  but  Letitia  must  be  put 
away  again,  she  's  very  frail  and  precious." 

And  the  historic  doll  was  carefully  covered  over,  and 
borne  away  on  her  pillow.  The  rest  of  the  day  was  spent, 
when  dinner  was  over,  in  wandering  with  Dick  all  over 
the  trim,  well-kept  place,  and  after  tea  they  went  out  to 
the  pike  to  wait  for  the  lumbering,  red  stage  to  pass  and 
throw  out  the  mail  and  evening  papers.  For  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Fenny  Drayton  was  still  primitive  enough, 
although  within  thirty  miles  of  two  great  cities,  to  have  its 
only  egress  by  means  of  a  daily  stage,  which  passed 
Ivanwold  gate,  traversed  the  whole  neighborhood,  went 
through  Airlie  village,  and  on  "  up-country,"  as  the 
Marylanders  put  it. 

The  next  morning,  soon  after  breakfast,  a  transforma- 
tion took  place  in  Dick.  The  immaculate  morning  suit 
disappeared  to  give  place  to  a  costume  befitting  a  young 
rancher.  Coat  and  vest  were  thrown  off,  a  light  flannel 
shirt  open  at  the  throat,  trousers  tucked  into  high  boots, 
and  a  small  felt  hat  shading  the  eyes,  made  a  most  perfect 
type  of  superb  young  manhood.  Over  one  arm  hung  a 
thick  coil  of  rope  some  forty  feet  long.  The  slight  flush 
on  his  face,  the  animation  and  alertness  of  the  whole 
figure  betokened  that  he  had  a  task  before  him  that  was 
very  much  to  his  taste. 

"  What  is  all  that  rope  for,  Dick  ?  " 


BREAKING   THE   BAY   COLT.  6l 

"Come  and  you  shall  see,  little  one." 

"  Oh,  Dick,  thee  's  going  to  break  the  colt  to-day  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  get  your  hat." 

Robin  waited  for  no  second  invitation,  but  snatched 
her  hat  from  a  peg,  rushed  down  the  steps  after  Dick, 
and  danced  along  the  gravel  walk  at  his  side  in  a  perfect 
fever  of  excitement. 

"  Dick,  will  thee  let  me  come  into  the  field  with  thee  ? 
for  I  want  to  see  every  bit  of  it." 

"  I  dare  not  let  you  come  into  the  field,  but  you  can 
sit  on  top  of  the  fence  and  see  it  perfectly.  The  colt  has 
never  been  handled  at  all  and  is  as  wild  as  a  deer." 

"  How  can  thee  get  near  enough  to  handle  him  if  he  's 
so  wild,  and  won't  thee  be  afraid  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  I  shall  not  have  much  trouble." 

Dick  spoke  confidently  ;  he  knew  his  work  well,  and 
he  did  not  know  what  fear  was  where  horses  were  con- 
cerned. Having  spent  his  early  boyhood  and  all  of  his 
summers  in  the  country,  he  had  had  the  handling  and 
breaking  of  all  the  horses  on  the  place.  When  they 
reached  the  field  where  the  bay  colt  pastured  together 
with  five  or  six  other  horses,  one  of  the  stablemen  stood 
beside  the  bars  with  surcingle,  crupper  and  strap.  The 
bars  were  let  down  and  Dick  gave  several  prolonged 
cries,  to  which  the  horses  responded  by  coming  quickly 
to  the  bars.  The  men  stood  aside  and  they  passed 
through,  the  young  colt  tossing  his  head  and  throwing 
his  heels  into  the  air  as  he  came  last.  The  horses  were 


02  GILBERT   ELGAR  S   SON. 

all  driven  into  the  barnyard,  where  it  was  Dick's  purpose 
to  decoy  the  young  colt  into  a  sort  of  pen  that  was  in 
one  corner  of  the  enclosure.  Once  captured,  he  would 
take  him  back  to  the  field,  where  the  real  contest 
between  man  and  brute  would  take  place. 

The  other  horses  were  soon  driven  into  the  stable. 
Then  began  a  hot  chase  up  and  down  and  round  and 
round  the  narrow  limits.  Many  times  the  two  men 
almost  had  him,  only  to  have  him  kick  his  heels  in  their 
very  faces  as  he  would  wheel  and  gallop  the  other  way. 
But  in  one  unwary  moment,  when  closely  pressed,  he 
dodged  into  the  pen,  and  before  he  could  escape  the 
stableman  had  cut  off  retreat,  while  Dick  sprang  forward 
and  with  one  end  of  the  long  rope  had  thrown  over  his 
head  a  noose,  and  then  sprang  back,  just  in  time,  as  the 
colt,  rearing,  struck  at  him  with  his  hoofs,  tearing  open 
the  light  flannel  shirt  and  carrying  away  the  lightly  con- 
structed side  of  the  pen  at  the  same  time.  Then  the 
wild  creature  made  a  bound ;  the  barnyard  gate  was 
thrown  wide  open,  and  the  bay  colt  tore  madly  through 
into  the  pasture-field,  dragging  Dick  with  him. 

Robin  felt  her  breath  come  short  and  fast,  as  she 
gazed  upon  the  wild,  headlong  pace  of  the  horse  and  the 
hatless  form  of  her  cousin  dragging,  as  she  thought, 
helpless  at  the  end  of  the  long  rope.  The  creature  made 
for  the  far  end  of  the  field,  where  the  corner  of  the  fence 
stopped  him  for  a  moment.  Dick  was  instantly  on  his 
feet,  shortening  the  rope  ;  and  as  the  colt  saw  one  foe 


BREAKING  THE   BAY   COLT.  63 

close  at  hand  and  the  other  advancing  surely  upon  him, 
he  felt  himself  overtaken  once  again  and  plunged  wildly 
first  to  one  side  then  to  the  other,  Dick  heading  him  off 
each  time.  Finally  the  creature,  laying  back  his  ears, 
wheeled  around  and  again  let  his  heels  fly,  but  Dick  was 
too  quick  ;  he  jumped  forward,  and  before  the  animal 
could  change  his  position  he  had  seized  the  noose  that 
encircled  the  colt's  neck,  and  with  a  dexterous  turning 
of  the  rope  had  passed  it  through  the  mouth,  round  the 
lower  jaw  and  into  a  slip-knot,  making  the  famous 
"  Comanche  bridle." 

This  was  another  moment  of  danger  to  the  young 
man,  and  Robin  expected  to  see  her  cousin  trampled  to 
death.  The  creature,  unable  to  free  himself  from  the 
powerful  grasp,  plunged  and  reared.  Dick  suddenly  let 
him  go,  and  the  colt  made  a  dash  ;  the  full  length  of  the 
rope  was  given  him,  then  he  was  brought  up  short  by  the 
terrible  and  unexpected  jerk  upon  his  mouth.  Many 
times  over  did  he  try  to  get  away,  always  to  be  reminded 
that  there  was  a  power  stronger  than  himself.  Then  he 
commenced  to  kick,  and  Dick  knew  that  he  must  resort 
to  the  severest  measures  in  subduing  the  wild  creature. 
With  much  trouble  surcingle,  crupper  and  strap  were 
put  upon  the  restless  animal,  but  not  without  every 
variation  of  brute  resistance.  With  the  aid  of  the 
stableman  the  left  foreleg  was  bent  and  strapped  in  that 
position  to  the  surcingle,  and  an  extra  rope,  passed 
round  the  neck  and  through  the  mouth,  was  drawn  and 


64  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

tightened  in  such  a  way  as  to  twist  the  head  to  one  side, 
where  it  was  securely  held.  Both  men  jumped  aside. 
An  attempt  to  plunge,  a  jerk  of  the  long  rope  from  the 
master  hand,  and  the  bay  colt  rolled  over  upon  the  grass 
and  lay  quivering  in  every  muscle. 

At  this  a  childish  shout  went  up  from  Robin,  who  had 
breathlessly  followed  every  movement  of  horse  and 
master.  And  when  Dick  finally  seated  himself  coolly 
upon  the  resistless  animal's  head,  she  waved  her  hat  and 
shouted  across  the  field  : 

"  Hurrah  for  thee,  Cousin  Dick  !  " 

In  a  few  moments  the  bent  head  was  released,  the  leg 
was  unloosened,  and  the  colt  sprang  to  its  feet  trem- 
bling and  dazed.  Taking  advantage  of  this  subdued 
moment,  Dick  then  partly  led  and  partly  drove  the  ani- 
mal into  the  adjoining  field,  which  was  newly  ploughed, 
calling  to  Robin  that  he  was  going  to  mount.  Robin 
scrambled  down  and  ran  across  to  the  place  indicated, 
where  she  climbed  to  the  top  rail  and  perched  as  before. 
The  bars  had  been  let  down  between  the  fields,  and 
after  many  obstinate  pauses  Dick  and  the  colt  were 
finally  deep  in  the  furrows  of  the  newly-ploughed 
ground,  which  Dick  knew  would  offer  greater  resistance 
to  running  and  be  much  less  dangerous  for  the  falls 
that  might  be  in  store  for  himself. 

He  began  by  throwing  his  weight  across  the  animal's 
back,  without  mounting  ;  suddenly  he  vaulted  upon  his 
back;  then  began  such  a  plunging  and  rearing,  alternated 


BREAKING   THE   BAY   COLT.  65 

with  quick,  bucking  jumps,  that  Robin's  heart  was  in 
her  mouth  at  Dick's  risk.  But  he  kept  his  seat  with  un- 
daunted nerve.  The  hot  sun  poured  down  upon  his  bare 
head,  and  a  deep  red  flush  had  spread  over  his  face  and 
neck.  The  end  of  the  long  rope  was  loosely  wound 
round  one  wrist,  his  knees  were  pressed  close  into  the 
sides  of  the  horse,  and  his  crouching  body  testified  to 
the  struggle  that  was  going  on  between  man  and  beast. 
Brute  force  had  a  momentary  triumph  ;  one  desperate 
plunge,  followed  by  short  jumps,  and  Dick  was  hurled 
high  into  the  air  and  landed  some  feet  away  upon  his 
face.  The  colt,  with  the  long  end  of  rope  dragging, 
made  for  the  open  bars  ;  but  before  he  could  gain  the 
pasture-field  again  Dick  was  up,  though  the  arm  that  had 
had  the  rope  twisted  about  it  hung  limp.  Only  an 
instant  did  he  pause  ;  then  gathering  himself  quickly  he 
shouted  to  the  man  to  head  off  the  colt.  But  it  was  too 
late  :  the  colt  was  already  galloping  madly  round  the 
pasture-field.  Then  the  two  men  began  a  chase  which 
Robin  thought  would  never  end,  but  again  the  colt  was 
driven  into  the  corner,  and  this  time  Dick  called  out  in 
hot  excitement : 

"  I  '11  take  the  life  out  of  you,  my  fine  fellow." 

The  leg  was  again  strapped,  the  head  again  bent,  and 

the  bay  colt  was  thrown   in   quick  succession   several 

times.     Dick's  strained  and  swollen  arm  was  much  in 

his  way,  but  he  did  not  pause  for  that,  until  the  colt, 

worn  out  and  dazed,  stood  trembling  and  submissive. 
5 


66  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

Dick   then    sprang  upon   his   back,  this   time  without 
resistance,  and  riding  up  to  the  fence  where  Robin  was 
still  perched,  wide-eyed  and  open-mouthed,  said  : 
"  Well,  little  one,  what  shall  its  name  be  ?  " 
"  '  Comanche  Dick,'  "  promptly  replied  the  child. 
"  Very  well,  '  Comanche  Dick '  it  shall  be." 
"  But,   Dick,    thee    hurt    thy    arm    when    thee    was 
thrown  ? " 

"  Oh,  it  is  nothing,  only  a  strain  "  ;  and  Dick  jumped 
to  the  ground,  took  off  the  rope-bridle,  replacing  it  with 
a  halter,  and  turned  the  newly-named  and  conquered 
animal  over  to  his  man.  And  hand-in-hand  Robin  and 
Dick  went  slowly  through  the  bars,  across  the  field 
homewards. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

BENDING    THE    TWIG. 

THE  breaking  of  Comanche  Dick  was  a  great  event  in 
Robin's  young  life.  She  made  her  cousin  explain 
each  twist  of  the  rope,  each  step  of  the  process,  and  was 
never  weary  of  asking  questions  and  listening  to  Dick 
expound  his  views  on  horse-breaking.  She  dreamed  at 
night  that  she  was  breaking  a  colt,  and  was  being  dragged 
over  the  grass  by  a  long  rope  ;  then  she  saw  Dick,  with 
his  hair  shining  in  the  sun,  crouching  on  the  bare  back 
of  the  plunging,  rearing  creature,  and  she  waked  up  with 
a  start,  relieved  to  think  that  Dick  was  not  lying  dead  in 
the  ploughed  field,  and  that  she  had  only  been  dreaming. 
Each  day  of  the  happy  week  passed  rapidly,  bringing 
with  it  some  exciting  and  interesting  scene  in  the  many 
lessons  that  the  bay  colt  had  to  be  taught ;  for  it  was  no 
speedy  process  to  subdue  and  teach  the  wild  creature  to 
obey,  and  Dick's  strained  arm  was  much  in  his  way,  it 
being  almost  useless  from  the  severe  wrench  the  rope 
had  given  him  when  Comanche  had  in  a  wild  moment  of 
fury  asserted  his  brute  strength  Robin  enjoyed  the, 

67 


68  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

lessons  each  day  to  their  fullest,  and  there  was  stowed 
away  in  her  brain  a  lasting  memory  of  breaking  the  bay 
colt ;  and  more  than  ever  in  her  heart  was  a  firm 
resolve  to  grow  up  a  man  and  break  a  horse  as  Cousin 
Dick  had  done. 

First-Day  came  round  again,  but  only  Dorothea 
appeared  in  the  carriage  to  take  Robin  back  to  Airlie. 
Whether  Gilbert  was  unwilling  to  encounter  Deborah's 
sharp  tongue  did  not  transpire,  and  Deborah  did  not 
ask  ;  but  certain  it  was  he  did  not  appear,  and  mother 
and  daughter  returned  alone. 

The  summer  glided  by  uneventfully  and  peacefully, 
with  many  goings  back  and  forth  between  Airlie  and 
Ivanwold.  Early  in  September  Dick  bade  them  good- 
bye and  returned  to  Cambridge  for  his  senior  year,  and 
full  of  plans  for  the  time  when  his  "  grind  "  should  be 
over.  The  time  drew  near  for  the  little  school-house  in 
Fenny  Drayton  to  open,  and  no  mention  had  yet  been 
made  of  Robin's  return. 

All  the  summer  long  the  child  had  never  once  gone  to 
the  attic,  and  never  had  shown  in  any  way  that  she 
regretted  the  dolls  which  had  been  so  dear  to  her.  Ad- 
sum  had  been  her  inseparable  attendant,  and  the  two 
had  been  at  Gilbert's  heels  wherever  he  went  ;  or  if  Gil- 
bert were  not  at  hand  they  would  roam  the  farm  over, 
following  Kane  through  the  various  phases  of  the  harvest. 

It  was  during  these  summer  months  that  Robin  was 
allowed  to  ride  upon  a  "grown-up  horse,"  as  she  ex- 


BENDING   THE   TWIG.  69 

pressed  it.  She  had  announced  her  intention,  upon 
coming  back  from  her  visit  at  Ivanwold,  of  never  again 
riding  her  pony,  or  riding  in  front  of  her  father  on  his 
saddle ;  so  Gilbert  and  Dick  took  turns  in  teaching  her 
to  manage  a  horse  that  was  gentle  enough  to  allay  even 
Dorothea's  fears  and  scruples.  Gilbert  suggested  that, 
as  she  was  now  beginning  to  ride  in  earnest,  she  had 
better  lay  aside  the  voluminous  old  brown  skirt  she  had 
hitherto  worn  over  her  ordinary  frock,  and  have  a  neat 
habit.  It  was  a  proud  day  when  the  child  was  first 
equipped  in  diminutive  habit  and  cap,  her  bright  hair 
flowing  over  her  shoulders  ;  but  her  delight  knew  no 
bounds  when  Dick  produced  a  crop  with  a  dog's  head 
for  a  handle,  and  taught  her  how  to  open  gates  with  it. 
Dorothea  sighed  to  herself  as  she  thought  how  determined 
the  two  men  seemed  to  spoil  her,  but  she  was  comforted 
when  she  remembered  of  what  sound  stuff  the  child 
seemed  to  be  made,  and  how  unconscious  she  was  of  the 
fact  that  she  was  being  made  much  of. 

When  Dick  had  gone,  and  only  a  few  days  remained 
before  the  opening  of  the  village  school,  Dorothea  said  : 

"  Robin,  had  not  thee  better  get  thy  books  together 
before  school  begins  ?  " 

"  Does  thee  mean  the  hateful  books  in  the  baize 
satchel,  mother  ?  " 

"  I  mean  thy  school  books,  daughter ;  thee  shall  not 
call  them  hateful ;  thee  is  getting  to  be  very  unruly  in 
thy  language." 


/O  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

"  Mother,  is  there  no  other  way  of  learning,  except  to 
go  to  the  school-house  where  the  teacher  calls  me 
'  Robina  '  ?  Oh,  mother  dear,  cannot  thee  teach  me  ? 
I  've  seen  thee  read  out  of  big  books,  and  thee  knows 
such  a  lot  about  every  thing.  Or  perhaps  father  might 
teach  me,  though  I  never  saw  him  read  any  thing  but  the 
newspapers  and  the  almanac." 

"  Robin,  thee  tries  me  very  sorely.  Does  thee  think 
it  right  to  be  so  persistent  with  thy  whims  and  no- 
tions ? " 

"  Don't  scold,  mother  dear,  and  please  don't  send  me 
back  to  the  village  school.  Just  see  how  I  have  grown  ; 
thee  has  let  three  tucks  out  of  this  frock,  and  I  am  too 
big  to  read  about  the  fat  pig  and  the  red  cow  in  the  old 
spelling-book,  and  the  little  black  history  with  the  pic- 
ture of  Molly  Stark  being  a  widow  in  it.  Please,  mother, 
let  me  have  some  sure-enough  books.  Thee  knows  I 
want  to  hurry  to  catch  up  with  Dick  so  father  won't  feel 
badly  any  more  when  he  sees  I  am  really  his  son." 

Dorothea  drew  the  child  to  her  and  stroked  her  hair, 
while  all  unseen  a  silent  tear  stole  down  her  face,  as  she 
recognized  the  same  fixed  notion  in  the  child's  mind, 
which  the  happy  summer  had  not  driven  forth. 

"  Well,  my  child,  I  will  talk  it  over  with  father  ;  but  I 

> 
cannot  make  any  promises." 

Dorothea  did  talk  it  over  with  Gilbert,  and  Gilbert 
was  perplexed  and  worried.  He  had  never  had  much 
opinion  of  the  little  school  in  Fenny  Drayton,  but  at  the 


BENDING  THE  TWIG.  71 

same  time  it  was  the  best  there  was,  and  the  child  could 
not  grow  up  untaught.  At  last  he  asked  doubtingly  : 

"  How  would  Evan  Massie  do  ?  " 

"  How  does  thee  mean  ? " 

"  I  mean,  does  thee  believe  that  Evan  could  be  per- 
suaded to  undertake  Robin's  education  ?  There  is 
nothing  in  books  or  out  of  them  he  does  not  know. 
Thee  sees,  Dorothea,  it  is  this  way  :  in  a  few  years  Robin 
would  outgrow  this  village  school,  and  she  would  have  to 
go  elsewhere.  I  shall  never  be  willing  for  her  to  go 
away  from  home  to  school.  Will  thee  ?  " 

"  No,  Gilbert,  never." 

"  Suppose,  then,  I  go  down  and  see  Evan  and  talk  it 
over  with  him  ?  I  will  go  this  very  day." 

"The  only  objection  I  could  possibly  have  to  Evan  is, 
that,  with  all  his  wonderful  learning,  he  is  narrow  and  is 
cut-and-dried  in  orthodoxy." 

"  Pshaw,  Dorothy  ;  what  is  it  to  thee  whether  he  is 
Orthodox  or  Hicksite  ?  " 

"Well,  thee  go  and  talk  to  him  ;  he  is  a  born  teacher." 
So  it  was  decided. 

Evan  Massie,  in  outward  appearance,  must  have  been 
the  type  Dick  had  in  mind  when  he  told  his  aunt  that 
"  Quakerism  was  a  devilish  hard  grind  on  the  men,"  for 
he  possessed  a  strange  make-up.  He  was  tall  and  lank, 
with  straggling  hair  slightly  touched  with  gray  ;  he  had 
pale,  faded-looking  eyes,  a  prominent  forehead  and  a 
strangely  sallow  complexion,  with  a  half-sanctimonious, 


72  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

half-complacent  expression  on  his  face.  His  gait  was 
uncertain,  almost  shuffling,  and  his  attire  was  most 
sombre  and  funereal.  But  when  any  theme  was  started 
in  the  line  of  thought  or  study  his  whole  face  and  figure 
underwent  a  transformation  most  startling.  Then  it  was 
that  one  discovered  the  face  to  be  massive  and  the  eyes 
to  be  lighted  by  inward  fire  ;  the  gaunt  and  awkward 
frame  was  forgotten,  and  only  the  master  mind  shone 
out.  He  had  spent  his  life  in  study,  and  possessed  the 
wonderful  gift  of  imparting  his  knowledge  with  all  the 
clearness  and  enthusiasm  of  a  master.  He  had  been 
historian  and  lecturer  in  a  Friends'  college  in  Pennsyl- 
vania, but  owing  to  uncertain  health  he  had  returned  to 
Maryland  and  spent  the  last  few  years  quietly  among  his 
books. 

To  him  Gilbert  went  with  his  idea  of  Robin's  education 
and  laid  before  him  the  child's  peculiar  rebellion  against 
the  village  school. 

"  Thee  sees,  Evan,"  Gilbert  said,  "  Robin  is  a  queer 
child,  much  too  old  for  her  years  in  many  ways,  and  she 
refuses  to  study  out  of  the  books  they  t»se  in  the  school- 
house.  She  has  taken  a  fancy  that  she  must  have  an 
education  such  as  a  boy  would  have.  Will  thee  under- 
take her  ? " 

"  Gilbert,  thee  asks  a  hard  thing  of  me  ;  I  never  taught 
any  girls  and  never  any  one  as  young  as  she  is.  If  she 
were  older  it  might  be  easy  enough." 

Gilbert  then  talked  long  and  earnestly.     He  told  Evan 


BENDING   THE   TWIG.  73 

of  Robin's  contempt  for  the  spelling-book  and  indigna- 
tion at  the  chanting  of  the  lessons  in  unison  at  school. 
This  amused  Evan  vastly,  and  he  held  forth  on  the 
general  system  of  public-school  teaching  among  the 
Friends  and  finally  said  : 

"  I  believe  I  will  agree  to  teach  Robin.  Will  thee  and 
Dorothea  promise  not  to  interfere  ?  I  have  a  method  of 
my  own  of  teaching  which  I  would  like  to  try.  If  she 
were  only  a  boy  now  I  would  like  no  better  chance  for 
experiment." 

"  But,  Evan,  thee  must  not  overwork  her,  she  is  very 
young." 

"  Never  fear  ;  mine  is  not  a  forcing  system,"  replied  he. 

"  Very  well  then  ;  will  thee  come  up  to  Airlie  and  see 
Dorothea  ?  and  we  will  arrange  place  and  time.  Any 
thing  thee  chooses  to  ask  in  payment  will  be  cheerfully 
given." 

"  Very  good.     Must  thee  go  ?     Farewell  then." 

"  Farewell,"  responded  Gilbert ;  and  he  returned  and 
reported  the  interview  to  Dorothea. 

Long  and  frequent  were  the  discussions  between  the 
parents.  Dorothea  felt  that  it  might  perhaps  be  the  very 
worst  thing  to  take  the  child  away  from  companions  of 
her  own  age,  and  that  it  was  allowing  her  to  have  her  own 
way  far  too  much  ;  that  Robin  was  too  young  to  know 
what  she  wanted,  and  more  than  all  that  she  feared  Evan 
might  make  a  monstrosity  of  her  if  he  had  the  sole  man- 
agement and  direction  of  her  education.  Dorothea  had 


74  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

the  old-time  aversion  to  a  woman  who  was  learned,  but 
she  knew  that  the  times  had  changed  and  that  i't  was  a 
common  thing  for  a  girl  to  have  a  college  education ; 
"the  more  's  the  pity,"  she  said  to  herself.  As  for 
Gilbert,  he  was  vastly  pleased  at  the  idea  of  Evan  for 
preceptor.  He  would  have  humored  his  little  daughter 
in  almost  any  whim  or  desire,  and  the  notion  secretly 
tickled  him  that  Robin  was  fancying  herself  a  boy  ;  and 
he  smiled  broadly  as  he  remembered  coming  upon  her  in 
the  early  June  days,  bird-nesting.  True  to  her  notion  of 
having  given  over  girls'  pursuits,  he  had  seen  her  climb 
up,  take  down  the  nest,  and  empty  out  the  eggs  in  true 
boy-fashion ;  but  what  amused  him  most,  and  what  was 
the  pith  of  it  all,  he  had  seen  her  after  several  hours 
gather  up  the  eggs,  lay  them  carefully  in  the  nest  and 
then  put  it  back  again  where  she  had  found  it.  And 
Gilbert  chuckled  over  it  not  a  little. 

When  Robin  was  told  that  she  might  have  her  wish, 
that  she  should  study  at  home  and  was  to  have  Evan  for 
teacher,  she  looked  almost  frightened.  She  had  always 
been  afraid  of  Evan,  and  she  thought  for  a  few  moments 
that  she  would  almost  rather  go  to  the  obnoxious  village 
school.  But  soon  the  importance  of  having  a  man  to 
teach  her,  and  of  having  big  books  to  study  like  Cousin 
Dick's,  caused  all  doubt  to  vanish  and  made  her  im- 
patient for  the  important  time  to  arrive.  Sore  was  her 
disappointment  when  upon  the  day  Evan  finally  came  he 
came  empty-handed,  and  she  wondered  if  he  might  not 


BENDING  THE  TWIG.  75 

have  several  big  volumes  out  in  the  bottom  of  his  rocka- 
way.  He  talked  pleasantly  with  Dorothea  and  then 
turned  to  Robin  and  asked  her  about  the  hounds,  and 
said  he  would  like  to  see  them.  Robin  instantly  offered 
to  show  them  to  him  ;  and  off  they  started,  accompanied 
by  Adsum  and  Whack.  The  old  story  of  the  sheep  that 
butted  Whack  over  was  graphically  repeated  to  Evan. 
After  the  dogs  had  been  seen  the  stables  were  visited. 
Robin  showed  her  horse,  which  she  triumphantly  said 
was  her  "  very  own  "  ;  then  she  launched  into  a  spirited 
description  of  the  breaking  of  Comanche  Dick.  Evan 
listened  attentively  to  every  word  the  child  uttered,  he 
drew  her  out  more  and  more  and  upon  many  different 
things,  noting  the  changing,  varying  expressions  of  her 
face  and  the  quick  intelligence  she  evinced  ;  and  he  said 
to  himself,  "  She  will  do." 

In  an  hour's  time  Robin  felt  as  much  at  home  with 
Evan  as  she  did  with  Dick.  When  they  returned  to  the 
house  she  had  slipped  her  hand  into  his  and  was  chatter- 
ing away  to  him  as  if  she  had  seen  him  every  day  of 
her  life.  From  that  time  on  Robin  and  Evan  Massie 
were  sworn  friends  and  allies.  All  during  the  bright 
autumn  days  the  lessons  were  given  in  the  open  air  and 
without  books,  save  that  now  and  then  Evan  would  bring 
some  translation  of  his  own,  made  simple  and  quaint  for 
childish  ears,  of  some  old  Greek  tragedy  or  some  mytho- 
logical lore.  It  was  not  until  cold  weather  set  in  and  they 
adjourned  to  the  house  that  tasks  were  set  and  learned. 
Every  book,  every  lesson  was  adapted  to  the  capacity  of 


76  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

the  child  so  exactly  that  Robin  learned  with  avidity,  and 
the  hours  spent  with  Evan  were  the  happiest  of  the  day. 
Gilbert  and  Dorothea,  as  they  looked  on  and  saw  how 
happy  the  child  was  and  how  easily  and  eagerly  she 
learned,  felt  that  they  had  done  wisely  and  well.  The 
child  was  led  on  step  by  step  ;  Latin,  made  simple  and 
easy,  was  introduced  before  the  winter  was  over,  and 
it  was  with  delight  that  Evan  watched  her  mind  grow 
and  expand.  He  meant  that  she  should  have  as  solid 
and  as  classical  an  education  as  he  was  capable  of  im- 
parting ;  that  it  should  be  as  thorough  and  deep  as  any 
young  man  could  attain  in  any  college  ;  and  he  carried 
out  his  purpose.  When  spring  came  again  the  lessons 
were  given  out-of-doors,  sometimes  on  the  porch,  some- 
times in  the  garden,  sometimes  while  walking  through  the 
fields. 

Summer  came,  bringing  vacation  and  Dick  triumphant 
from  graduation  and  full  of  the  idea  of  going  abroad  in 
the  autumn  for  several  years.  He  said  no  more  about 
selling  his  old  home,  and  the  holiday  months  were  spent 
in  riding  and  hunting.  So  proficient  had  Robin  become 
in  horsemanship  that  Dick  said  she  should  have  Com- 
anche  when  he  went  away,  and  Gilbert  promised  to  take 
the  young  horse  in  hand  and  train  him  for  her.  This  was 
a  great  delight  to  the  child,  but  it  was  tempered  by  the 
thought  that  Dick  was  going  away  to  stay  ;  and  as  the 
time  approached  the  child  could  not  look  at  him  without 
a  quiver  coming  to  her  mouth  and  tears  welling  up  to 
her  eyes. 


BENDING  THE  TWIG.  77 

"  When  thee  comes  back,  Dick,  I  '11  be  most  as  big 
a  man  as  thee  is,"  she  said  tremulously,  looking  up  ear- 
nestly into  his  face. 

The  day  of  parting  came.  Dick  rode  up  early  one 
morning  and  had  only  a  few  moments  for  last  words. 
The  young  man  found  it  harder  to  leave  his  Airlie  kins- 
folk than  he  had  imagined  it  would  be.  After  all,  they 
were  much  nearer  to  him  than  his  mother's  relatives  had 
ever  been.  Somehow  in  this  parting  hour  the  memory  of 
his  father  came  strong  upon  him,  and  he  almost  wished 
he  had  waited  awhile  before  going  abroad.  As  he  kissed 
his  Aunt  Dorothy's  grave  face  there  was  a  boyish  lump 
in  his  throat  ;  but  it  was  Robin  with  her  little  arms 
tightly  clasped  about  his  neck,  her  dry  eyes  and  twitch- 
ing lips,  that  unmanned  him.  She  spoke  no  word,  nor 
did  he,  but  he  kissed  her,  unwound  her  arms  and  dashed 
down  the  steps  with  a  hasty  clasp  of  Gilbert's  hand,  and 
was  off.  Robin  stood  watching  him  for  a  moment,  her 
eyes  flooded  with  sudden  tears,  then  rushing  to  her  mother 
she  buried  her  face  in  the  skirt  of  her  gown  and  sobbed 
convulsively  : 

"  Mother,  we  shall  never  again  see  our  Dick." 

Dorothea  stroked  the  bright  hair  and  tried  to  comfort 
the  heart-broken  child  ;  but  she  echoed  in  her  heart  the 
same  refrain.  He  would  come  back,  but  he  would  not 
be  their  Dick,  their  boy.  The  world  would  spoil  him, 
and  the  tie  that  bound  him  to  them  would  be  broken. 

And  the  days  stretched  into  months,  and  the  months 
grew  to  be  years,  with  little  break  in  the  daily  life  at  Airlie. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

' '  Since  I  saw  you  last 
There  is  a  change  upon  you." 

— Ant.  and  Cleo. 

TT  was  a  crisp  and  frosty  night  in  late  October.  A 
cold,  brilliant  moon  floated  high  in  the  heavens,  out- 
lining in  its  clear  rays  the  bare  trees,  and  touching  gently 
here  and  there  the  ghostly  white  branches  of  an  occa- 
sional sycamore,  as  it  swayed  in  the  keen  night  air. 
Now  and  then  a  gust  of  wind  swept  by,  carrying  before 
it  an  eddying  whirl  of  fallen  leaves,  and  a  sweet,  pun- 
gent smell  of  autumn  woods  was  everywhere.  A  strag- 
gling party  of  riders  emerged  from  the  gloom  of  the 
woods  into  the  bright  patch  of  moonlight  which  fell 
across  the  roadway  ;  some  six  or  seven  of  them,  with 
several  dogs  following  at  their  heels  in  tired,  dispirited 
fashion. 

They  rode  sometimes  three  and  four  abreast,  then  fell 
back  into  pairs  when  the  road  narrowed  again.  They 
clattered  along  in  the  bright  moonlight,  which  showed 
that  among  them  were  at  least  two  women,  and  that  the 
brush  of  a  fox  was  fastened  to  the  saddle  of  one  of  the 
two.  They  rode  rather  silently,  for  it  had  been  a  long 

78 


CHANGE.  79 

chase,  and  many  miles  had  been  covered  between  the 
afternoon  which  saw  them  start  and  the  late  moon  which 
shone  upon  their  return.  At  a  fork  in  the  road  they 
came  to  a  halt,  and  a  separation  in  their  ranks  was  about 
to  take  place,  when  a  voice  said  decidedly  : 

"  Come,  don't  pause  here  ;  you  are  all  to  stop  at  The 
Hatch  for  a  sandwich  and  something  to  warm  you  up  a 
bit.  Come,  Harmony,  my  daughter,  you  and  Miss  Robin 
ride  on  with  me.  Come  ahead,  Elgar,  and  which  of  you 
is  Jared  Comly  ?  I  '11  be  hanged  if  I  can  tell  in  this 
half-light ;  oh,  there  you  are,"  as  a  well-mounted  man 
separated  himself  from  the  rest. 

"  Really,  Captain  Esten,  father  and  I  must  go  home. 
Mother  is  always  worried  when  we  are  out  hunting  and 
get  back  late,"  and  Robin's  clear  voice  rang  out  in  the 
night  air.  She  leaned  from  her  saddle  and  laid  her  hand 
entreatingly  on  her  father's  arm. 

"  I  think,  daughter,  we  might  just  as  well  stop.  It  is 
very  little  out  of  our  way,  and  I  know  thee  must  be  cold." 

Robin  straightened  herself  in  her  saddle  and  replied  : 

"  Very  well,  father,  if  thee  thinks  best." 

The  whole  party  now  closed  up  and  proceeded  to  fol- 
low Captain  Esten  and  his  daughter  as  they  rode  in  the 
lead  with  Gilbert.  Jared  fell  back  beside  Robin,  and  as 
they  rode  along  he  said  : 

"  It  was  a  spirited  chase  we  had  this  afternoon.  I  had 
no  idea,  Robin,  thee  rode  so  splendidly,  and  thy  horse  is 
a  fine  jumper.  Where  did  thee  get  him  ?  " 


80  GILBERT  ELGAR'S   SON. 

"Yes,  he  jumps  well  for  an  old  horse,"  and  Robin 
leaned  forward,  caressed  the  horse's  neck,  and  con- 
tinued :  "  He  belonged  to  my  cousin  Dick  Elgar,  who 
broke  him  just  before  he  went  to  Europe,  almost  nine 
years  ago  "  ;  and,  addressing  her  horse,  she  went  on  : 
"  Thee  is  not  so  young  as  thee  was  then,  Comanche,  but 
thee  can  teach  many  a  younger  horse  to  jump." 

"  I  never  knew  thy  cousin  ;  he  was  always  so  much 
away  from  the  neighborhood  when  I  was  a  boy  at  home. 
Has  he  never  been  back  in  all  these  years  ?  "  asked  Jared. 

"  No,  never  ;  and  there  is  no  prospect  of  his  return  for 
years  to  come,  apparently.  We  rarely  ever  hear  from 
him  nowadays  ;  but,  Jared,  what  has  brought  thee  back 
to  this  quiet  neighborhood  ?  I  can  scarcely  understand 
how  a  man  who  has  had  a  chance  out  in  the  world  can 
voluntarily  return  to  the  country  to  live." 

"  Well,  the  truth  is,  I  have  been  rather  a  rolling  stone 
ever  since  I  ran  away  from  this  neighborhood  to  go  out 
West.  But  I  am  beginning  to  think  the  far  West  is  no 
place  for  a  born-and-bred  Quaker,  though  the  free, 
rough  life  has  a  certain  fascination.  Still,  I  believe  there 
is  just  as  much  chance  for  a  man  here  in  old  Maryland 
as  anywhere.  It  depends  of  course  on  the  man  ;  if  he 
has  pluck  and  courage  to  work,  he  can  do  it  without 
going  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  I  don't  know  just  what 
I  am  going  to  do  here,  I  may  not  even  stay  long  ;  but 
I  'd  like  to  get  hold  of  one  of  these  old  farms  and  see 
what  I  could  make  of  it." 


CHANGE.  8 1 

"  There  's  many  a  one  that  needs  something  to  be 
made  of  it,"  the  girl  said,  almost  as  if  speaking  to  her- 
self. 

The  rest  of  the  party  had  clattered  along  the  pike 
and  were  almost  out  of  sight.  Jared  and  Robin  rode 
briskly  forward,  only  to  arrive  at  The  Hatch  when  the 
others  had  all  dismounted  and  entered  its  hospitable 
doors.  Harmony  Esten  alone  remained  to  welcome 
Robin  and  Jared. 

The  Hatch  had  been  a  homestead  belonging  to  an  old 
Quaker  family,  and  Captain  Esten  during  a  short  visit  to 
the  neighborhood  of  Friends  years  before  had  been  so 
charmed  with  this  particular  place,  and  with  country  life 
generally  as  it  was  presented  to  him  in  this  cultivated 
community,  that  on  being  retired  from  the  Navy  because 
of  ill-health,  he  immediately  came  to  it,  and,  fortune 
favoring  him,  was  able  to  purchase  the  coveted  farm, 
which  he  called  The  Hatch,  as  he  facetiously  explained 
when  asked  why  he  had  so  christened  it,  "  Other  men 
talk  about  the  delight  of  being  under  their  own  roof — why 
should  not  an  old  sea-dog  like  myself  be  under  his  own 
hatch  ?  "  So  it  became  known,  and  the  jolly,  ruddy- 
faced  man  with  his  jokes  and  wit  and  gentle,  delicate- 
faced  daughter  Harmony,  took  up  their  home  among  the 
Friends  and  soon  became  prime  favorites  throughout  the 
neighborhood. 

The  three  young  people    entered  the  wide  hall,  and 

passed  into  the  brightly-lighted  dining-room.     The  men 
6 


82  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

were  all  gathered  in  a  group  about  an  old-fashioned  buf- 
fet, upon  which  were  set  out  several  decanters  and  glasses 
and  one  suggestive  bottle.  As  the  two  young  women  en- 
tered, the  men  with  one  accord  lifted  their  glasses  as  if  in 
toast.  The  host  raised  his  hand  to  an  imaginary  cap,  and 
gave  a  military  salute,  saying  as  he  held  up  his  glass  : 

"  Here  's  to  the  gallant  rider  who  was  in  at  the  death, 
and  may  she  always  win  the  brush." 

The  light  fell  upon  the  girls,  one  of  whom  straightened 
herself  to  her  full  height  and  gravely  returned  the  host's 
salute  by  touching  her  stiff  hat  with  the  handle  of  her 
crop.  As  she  stood  straight  and  tall  in  the  severe  folds 
of  her  habit,  with  one  spurred  boot  showing  at  the  hem 
of  her  skirt,  it  was  manifest  that  Gilbert  Elgar's  predic- 
tion had  been  verified,  and  that  little  Robin  had  grown 
into  one  of  the  bonniest  girls  in  all  Maryland.  She 
seemed  to  rivet  the  gaze  of  the  group  at  the  buffet ; 
there  was  a  momentary  hush  as  each  man  held  his  glass 
suspended  and  gazed  at  the  figure  fully  revealed  in  the 
light ;  then  the  host  spoke  and  broke  the  spell : 

"  Come,  Miss  Robin,  have  a  sandwich.  Come,  Har- 
mony, you  and  Miss  Robin  must  be  almost  done  up." 

"  Well,  father,  I  will  confess  I  am  rather  done  up,  as 
you  express  it.  I  'm  not  used  to  cross-country  riding 
and  being  so  many  hours  in  the  saddle  as  Robin  is." 

"  Truth  is,"  broke  in  Gilbert  in  a  loud  tone,  which  rang 
with  pride,  "  my  girl  was  brought  up  on  a  horse.  I  '11 
match  her  for  riding  against  any  man  in  the  country." 


CHANGE.  83 

"  Oh,  father,  hush "  ;  and  a  hot  flush  swept  over 
Robin's  face  at  her  father's  boastful  words  ;  and  as  Gil- 
bert drained  off  another  and  yet  another  glass,  Robin 
stepped  forward  saying : 

"  I  must  bid  you  good-night,  Captain  ;  it  is  very  late, 
and  we  must  go  at  once."  Then  turning  to  her  father  she 
continued  :  "  Thee  must  hurry,  father." 

Robin  made  the  quick  change  from  "  you  "  to  the 
Captain  to  "  thee  "  to  her  father,  for  the  Friends,  all  save 
a  few  of  the  old-time  ones,  use  the  plain  language  only 
among  themselves,  and  often  depart  from  it  even  then. 

"Very  well,  child,"  Gilbert  replied.  " You  see,  Cap- 
tain, how  I  am  bossed  ;  but  I  believe  I  rather  like  it, 
now  that  I  am  getting  to  be  an  old  man.  But,  Robin, 
thee  must  not  abuse  thy  privilege,"  turning  to  his 
daughter,  who  had  put  her  arm  through  his,  and  was 
leading  him  towards  the  door,  where  she  paused  to 
say  : 

"  Good-night  all.  Harmony,"  turning  to  her,  "  I 
want  you  to  have  the  brush  ;  will  you  let  me  give  it  to 
you  ?  " 

"  No  indeed,  Robin  ;  I  will  not 'take  the  brush  till  I  win 
it,"  replied  Harmony  with  pride. 

"  That  is  right,  Miss  Harmony,"  said  Gilbert  ;  and 
with  last  farewells  Gilbert  and  his  daughter  set  out  for 
home.  When  half-way  down  the  lawn  they  were 
joined  by  Jared,  who  said  in  explanation  of  his  sudden 
appearance  : 


84  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

"  I  am  riding  this  way  too." 

"  Do  not  let  us  take  thee  out  of  thy  way,  lad,"  said 
Gilbert. 

"  No,  but  if  thee  does  not  mind  I  will  ride  as  far  as 
Airlie  gate."  And  Jared  leaned  forward  and  tried  by 
the  light  of  the  moon  to  see  if  there  were  any  invitation 
or  consent  given  in  Robin's  face. 

The  soft  moonlight  fell  full  upon  it  and  showed  that 
Robin's  face  had  no  special  interest  in  Jared's  move- 
ments. She  seemed  rather  to  be  lost  in  thoughts  of  her 
own  that  appeared  to  have  little  to  do  with  her  com- 
panions who  were  walking  their  horses  at  her  side.  And 
Gilbert  and  Jared  were  left  to  discuss  the  events  of  the 
chase,  during  which  Gilbert's  voice  rose  once  or  twice  to 
a  high,  excited  pitch,  recalling  Robin  from  her  far-away 
thoughts,  and  making  her  urge  her  horse  to  a  brisk  trot, 
which  soon  brought  them  to  Airlie.  Here  Jared  took 
his  leave,  and  father  and  daughter  rode  up  the  familiar 
lane. 

Instead  of  dismounting  on  the  lawn,  as  she  usually  did, 
Robin  rode  with  her  father  to  the  stables,  where  she 
quickly  slipped  to  the  ground,  unbuckled  the  girths, 
dropped  the  saddle  on  the  grass,  and  catching  the  bridle 
over  her  arm,  entered  the  barn-yard  and  stable-door,  and 
quickly  turned  Comanche  into  his  stall  before  her  father 
had  accomplished  the  same  task  with  his  own  horse. 
Strangely  enough,  Gilbert  seemed  to  be  fumbling  still 
with  the  buckles  of  his  saddle  when  his  daughter  said  : 


CHANGE.  85 

"  Let  me  help  thee." 

Just  as  she  spoke  a  light  appeared  at  the  end  of  the  long 
porch,  although  the  moon  was  shining  brightly,  and  a 
woman's  voice  called  : 

"  Is  it  thee,  Robin  ? " 

"Yes,  mother,"  answered  the  girl  cheerily. 

"  Is  father  with  thee  ? "  anxiously  inquired  Dorothea. 

"  Yes,  we  are  both  safe,  only  a  trifle  late." 

By  this  time  Gilbert's  horse  had  been  unsaddled  and 
turned  into  his  stall  by  the  side  of  Comanche,  when 
Robin  proceeded  to  give  them  each  a  measure  of  oats  ; 
then  shutting  the  stable-door,  she  drew  her  father's  arm 
through  her  own,  and  they  proceeded  very  slowly  to  the 
house.  Gilbert  seemed  to  encounter  a  great  many  diffi- 
culties on  his  way  thither.  Dorothea  met  them  at  the 
steps.  As  they  ascended  she  raised  her  lamp  high  above 
her  head  and  peered  anxiously  into  her  husband's  face, 
and  then  questioningly  at  her  daughter,  and  said,  in  an 
undertone  : 

"  Is  every  thing  right  ?  " 

"  I  think  so,  mother,"  doubtingly  replied  the  daughter. 

"  What  's  that  thee  says,  Dorothy  ? "  asked  Gilbert  ; 
then  he  paused  on  the  step  and  launched  into  a  long  and 
vague  account  of  the  chase  they  had  had,  in  which  he 
mixed  up  in  a  jumble  his  daughter,  the  hounds  and  Jared, 
till  Dorothea  said,  with  a  sad,  discouraged  glance  at  Robin: 

"  There,  Gilbert,  leave  the  description  till  morning ; 
it  is  very  late." 


86  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

She  preceded  them  into  the  house,  still  holding  the 
lamp  aloft  to  light  the  stairs.  Gilbert  gropingly  made 
his  way  across  the  passage  and  up  the  stairs,  Robin 
guiding  him  carefully  to  his  door,  from  which  she  quickly 
went  to  her  own  room.  Tossing  hat  and  whip  on  the 
bed,  she  sat  down  at  the  window  in  the  moonlight,  know- 
ing that  her  mother  would  soon  come  in  for  a  last  word. 
Dorothea's  soft,  light  step  was  soon  heard.  She  came 
into  the  room,  shut  the  door,  and  set  the  lamp  down  on 
the  dressing-table. 

"  Tell  me  about  it,  daughter." 

"  About  the  hunt,  mother  ?  " 

"  No,  Robin,  about  father." 

"  Well,  mother,  we  stopped  at  The  Hatch.  I  did  not 
think  it  best,  and  said  what  I  could  in  remonstrance.  I 
tried  to  persuade  father  to  come  straight  home,  but  he 
was  quite  determined  to  stop.  I  could  not  insist  without 
creating  suspicion,  and  Captain  Esten,  who  is  hospitality 
itself,  offered  various  things  in  his  unsuspecting,  urgent 
way,  and " 

The  sentence  was  not  finished.  Mother  and  daughter 
looked  silently  into  each  other's  eyes  ;  then  Robin  went 
to  her  mother's  side,  and  drawing  her  mother's  head  to 
her  shoulder,  said  tenderly  : 

"  We  must  bear  it  together,  mother  dear  ;  thee  must 
be  brave,  and  not  grieve  so  much.  We  will  hide  this 
thing  as  long  as  we  can  ;  we  must  let  no  one  outside 
know  what  a  growing  fear  is  in  our  hearts." 


CHANGE.  87 

"  Robin,  I  shall  have  a  long  talk  with  father  in  the 
morning.  I  shall  tell  him  that  this  thing  is  growing  upon 
him,  that  thee  knows  of  it,  and  that  he  must  overcome  it 
for  our  sakes." 

"  Mother,  thee  must  be  very  gentle  with  father  ;  he 
must  not  think  we  are  stern  and  unforgiving.  Oh, 
mother,  he  has  been  such  a  loving,  indulgent  father  to 
me,  I  cannot  bear  to  have  this  terrible  thing  overtake 
him." 

The  tears  fell  thick  and  fast  as  Robin  laid  her  head 
upon  the  dressing-table.  It  was  now  Dorothea's  turn  to 
soothe  and  comfort.  Finally  Robin  lifted  her  head  and 
asked  : 

"  How  long  is  it,  mother,  since  thee  noticed  this  thing 
in  father  ? " 

"  The  first  time  I  ever  had  a  suspicion  was  five  years 
ago,  just  about  the  time  the  oxen  ran  away  with  the  cart 
and  broke  Kane's  back.  Just  after  that  I  remember 
father  was  a  good  deal  depressed  and  low-spirited.  That 
summer  the  crops  were  bad  ;  the  season  had  been  a  wet 
one,  and "  Dorothea  paused. 

"  Mother,  then  this  is  why  we  have  been  steadily  run- 
ning behind  ;  father  has  been  trying  to  forget  himself 
and  us,"  she  added  sorrowfully.  "  I  understand  now 
what  father  meant  years  ago  when  he  lamented  down  in 
the  wheat-field  that  he  had  no  son,  that  I  was  only  a 
helpless  girl,  and  would  grow  up  to  a  useless  womanhood. 
He  dimly  foresaw  this  day."  And  Robin  walked  rest- 


88  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

lessly  up  and  down  the  room,  followed  by  her  mother's 
loving  yet  anxious  eyes.  At  last  she  asked  : 

"  What  is  thee  thinking,  Robin  ? " 

"  I  am  thinking,  mother,  that  perhaps  there  are  some 
troubled  days  ahead  for  thee  and  me  ;  that  we  are  two 
women  and  must  do  battle  with  the  future,  perhaps  with 
disgrace.  But,  mother,  we  are  not  helpless  women  who 

will  sit  down  and  moan  :  we  will  face  it." 

9 

"  Thee  is  right,  daughter ;  I  do  not  feel  helpless  and 
never  will  with  my  tall,  self-reliant  daughter  to  lean  on." 

"  Really,  mother,  does  thee  mean  that  I  am  thy  depend- 
ence ?  "  and  an  eager  look  sprang  to  the  girl's  eyes. 

"Yes,  daughter,  thee  is  my  dependence,  my  strong 
right  arm,  and  I  shall  need  to  lean  on  thee  for  the  rest 
of  my  life." 

"  I  never  heard  such  sweet  words  of  praise  from  thy 
lips  ;  I  will  never  fail  thee  and  father." 

As  she  spoke,  Dorothea  gazed  at  her  and  could  think 
of  nothing  so  like  her  child  as  one  of  the  brave  young 
knights  of  the  Round  Table  going  forth  in  full  armor  to 
do  battle  for  the  weak.  At  last,  remembering  that  it 
was  late  and  that  her  daughter  had  had  a  long,  hard 
ride,  she  bade  her  good-night.  Robin  stooped  and 
kissed  her  mother  on  both  cheeks,  and  they  separated 
for  the  night. 

Long  after  her  mother  had  gone  she  sat  on  the  edge  of 
her  bed,  with  no  thought  of  time,  turning  over  and  over 
in  her  mind  the  change  that  was  taking  place  in  her 


CHANGE.  89 

father.  The  tears  would  spring  to  her  eyes  only  to  be 
brushed  impatiently  away,  as  no  way  out  of  the  trouble 
came  to  her  mind.  She  rose  at  last  with  a  sigh  and  laid 
aside  her  habit,  then  went  to  the  dressing-table,  when 
her  glance  fell  immediately  upon  a  well-worn,  black 
book  lying  face  downward.  Her  face  lighted  up,  as  she 
picked  up  the  book,  leaned  her  elbow  upon  her  hands, 
and  commenced  where  she  had  left  off  before  she  went 
on  the  hunt,  the  puzzling  out  of  a  queer  Greek  phrase 
she  had  met  with  in  Prometheus,  which  she  was  reading 
with  Evan.  For  a  time  she  forgot  the  troubled  conver- 
sation with  her  mother  and  the  gloomy  forebodings 
which  had  been  in  her  mind,  and  it  was  far  into  the 
night  when  she  put  out  her  light. 

The  education  begun  years  before  was  still  going  on, 
although  the  hours  were  much  fewer  than  of  yore. 
True  to  his  resolve,  Evan  Massie  had  imparted  to  his 
girl  pupil  the  same  knowledge  that  he  would  have  given 
to  a  young  man.  Robin's  childish  wish  to  study  big 
books  like  Cousin  Dick's  had  been  fully  gratified,  and  it 
is  doubtful  whether  Dick  during  his  whole  college  life 
had  acquired  as  much  as  this  eager  young  woman  had 
in  the  hands  of  her  faithful  domine.  He  had  taken  her 
over  the  same  ground  that  he  had  taken  many  a  young 
man.  She  stood  to-day  as  well  qualified  and  equipped 
to  enter  life  as  Dick  himself  had  been-.  Dorothea,  with 
her  old-fashioned  bringing  up,  had  rebelled  once  or 
twice  at  the  continuance  of  the  lessons  and  had  been 


90  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

unable  to  see  of  what  use  Greek,  Latin,  and  the  higher 
mathematics  could  be  to  a  girl,  and  a  country  girl  at 
that.  So  she  intimated  to  Evan,  when  Robin  had 
reached  her  eighteenth  year,  that  the  usual  time  had 
arrived  when  a  girl's  education  ended.  She  was  scan- 
dalized to  have  him  reply  that  he  "  should  expect  to 
conduct  her  studies  and  reading  till  she  was  at  least 
twenty-one."  And  as  this  had  met  Gilbert's  full 
approval,  Dorothea  resigned  herself  to  the  three  or  four 
mornings  each  week  and  made  up  for  it  in  taking  her 
daughter  in  hand  the  rest  of  the  time  and  teaching  her 
to  be  an  efficient  housewife.  Robin  did  not  like  the 
household  duties,  but  true  to  her  love  and  reverence  for 
her  mother  she  never  let  Dorothea  know  how  much  she 
preferred  to  be  roaming  through  the  woods  with  the 
dogs,  riding  with  her  father,  or  reading  with  Evan  in 
the  garden. 

It  had  always  troubled  Dorothea  that  Robin  seemed 
to  care  so  little  for  any  companionship  outside  of  her 
home  circle,  and  the  young  people  of  the  neighborhood, 
although  having  known  Robin  all  her  life,  felt  that  she 
rather  held  aloof  from  them,.  It  was  the  other  way  ; 
the  young  men  especially  averring  that  they  were 
"  afraid  of  her  learning,"  as  they  expressed  it,  though 
whenever  Robin,  totally  unconscious  of  the  manner  in 
which  they  regarded  her,  appeared  among  them,  they 
rallied  about  her  as  around  their  natural  leader.  When- 
ever Dorothea  would  urge  her  to  mix  more  with  the 


CHANGE.  91 

young  people  of  the  neighborhood  she  always  replied 
that  she  was  satisfied  with  her  home,  her  books,  and  the 
dogs  ;  but  if  the  remonstrance  was  unusually  persistent, 
she  would  ride  down  to  Ivanwold  and  spend  a  day 
or  two  with  Cousin  Deb,  for  whom  she  still  had 
unbounded  affection. 

When  the  Estens  came  to  live  at  The  Hatch,  a  new 
world  was  opened  for  Robin.  Harmony's  knowledge  of 
the  outside  world,  her  foreign  travel,  were  a  delightful 
surprise  to  her,  and  Harmony  herself,  with  her  gracious 
manner,  her  thousand  and  one  airy  little  graces  and  her 
delicate  blonde  beauty,  was  in  such  contrast  to  her  own 
graver  type  that  Robin  was  at  once  fascinated.  A  warm 
friendship  grew  up  between  them,  and  a  well-worn  path, 
often  travelled  by  Harmony  and  the  Captain  on  the 
one  hand  and  by  Robin  and  her  father  on  the  other,  was 
made  through  the  woods  over  the  stile  and  across  the 
meadows  between  The  Hatch  and  Airlie.  But  the  last 
few  months  had  brought  a  slight  change  ;  the  grass 
was  springing  up  in  the  path  ;  for  The  Hatch,  with  its 
genial  master  and  his  ever  hospitable  decanter  and 
glasses,  was  proving  a  growing  snare  to  the  master  of 
Airlie. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

FALLEN    UPON    EVIL    DAYS. 

'"THE  rising  sun  fell  aslant  upon  the  old  farm,  and  in  its 
pale,  frosty  rays,  Kane,  with  the  help  of  a  stout 
stick,  was  seen  dragging  his  crippled  legs  slowly  down 
the  slope  of  the  meadow,  driving  the  cows  to  the  milking- 
shed  close  to  the  dairy.  As  he  reached  the  stream 
which  flowed  through  the  meadow,  and  the  cows  waded 
in  to  drink,  he  paused  and  looked  at  the  ploughed  field 
behind  the  dairy  which  stretched  far  and  away  to  the 
woods.  As  he  anxiously  scanned  it  he  muttered  : 

"  Ain'  nary  blade  to  be  seen  yet,  an'  here  't  is  nigh 
onto  November,  an'  its  the  onliest  wheat  we  all's  sowed. 
I  done  tol'  Mister  Gilbert  it  mought  ha'  been  up  by  now 
if  he  'd  done  put  it  in  the  groun'  when  he  ough'  to.  An' 
the  corn  ain'  goin'  to  be  no  great  shakes,"  glancing  to  a 
distant  field  beyond  the  stables  and  corn-house,  which  had 
innumerable  shocks  standing  in  silent  rows  awaiting 
husking.  Then  he  went  on  muttering  : 

"  An'  I  was  such  a  blame'  fool  t'  let  them  dummed 
oxen  run  away  with  the  cart,  and  p'alyze  me,  an'  leave 

92 


FALLEN    UPON    EVIL   DAYS.  93 

Mister  Gilbert  with  no  one  fit  t'  look  after  them  darkies. 
An'  who  's  goin'  to  ten'  to  huskin'  ?  The  las'  crap  o' 
wheat  so  fell  off,  too,  'twon'  bring  more  'n  nothin,' 
'Deed  an'  'deed,  Mister  Gilbert  don*  do  like  he  ough'  to, 
an'  the  good  Lord  knows  what  's  comin'  to  we  all." 

Kane  drew  a  prodigious  sigh,  and  commenced  again 
his  slow  and  weary  progress.  Just  when  the  sun  was 
high  enough  to  cast  pale,  uncertain  shadows  across  the 
bare  lawn,  a  large  flock  of  turkeys,  full-grown,  came 
strutting  around  the  corner  of  the  house.  They  had  had 
their  morning  feed  and  were  ready  for  a  day  of  wander- 
ing all  over  the  farm,  in  and  out  among  the  shocks 
of  corn,  picking  up  stray  kernels  of  the  grain,  then  on  in 
solemn  procession  across  the  newly -sown  wheat-field, 
and  then  away  to  the  distant  woods,  occasioning  Doro- 
thea untold  worry  and  anxiety  when  their  absence  was 
prolonged.  Gilbert  had  many  a  sly  joke  at  his  wife's 
concern  for  them,  and  if  by  chance  any  of  them  disap- 
peared bodily  he  would  say  gravely  : 

"  Too  bad,  wife,  to  lose  thy  new  winter  bonnet,"  or, 
"  Kane  tells  me,  Dorothea,  that  thy  new  table-cloth  flew 
away  this  morning  "  ;  for  Gilbert  maintained  that  each 
turkey  meant  some  long-coveted  article,  and  that  Doro- 
thea labelled  each  with  the  thing  she  meant  to  buy  with 
its  price. 

The  sun  mounted  higher  and  higher,  showing  by  its 
broad  light  little  apparent  change  in  the  old  farm.  The 
nine  years  which  had  passed  had  to  the  careless  or  unac- 


94  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

customed  eye  left  little  impress  upon  it,  but  the  change 
was  there,  silent  and  sure.  The  hedges,  which  years 
before  had  been  things  of  beauty  in  their  compact  trim- 
ness,  had  thrown  out  long,  straggling  branches  that 
trailed  bare  and  ragged  in  the  keen  air  of  the  October 
morning,  showing  from  their  length  and  thickness  that 
they  had  not  been  clipped  in  many  months.  The  de- 
clining year  had  found  the  lawn  full  of  thick,  long  grass, 
which  now  was  brown  and  tangled.  The  old  locust- 
trees  showed  painful  gaps  in  their  stately  ranks,  made  by 
the  ravaging  gales  that  swept  from  the  northwest. 
These  and  many  other  signs  of  decay  and  neglect  might 
easily  pass  unnoticed  as  belonging  only  to  the  dying 
year,  but  to  the  practised  eye  they  had  a  painful  signifi- 
cance not  t'o  be  mistaken. 

Adsum  and  Whack  were  both  on  the  porch,  and  both 
showed  the  advance  of  years.  Though  Adsum's  faithful 
ears  were  as  keen  for  the  call  to  duty  as  ever,  Whack's 
tail  still  did  the  wagging  ;  but  the  old  dog  did  not  carry 
his  head  as  proudly  as  of  yore.  It  was  curiously  twisted 
to  one  side,  which  Gilbert  said  was  from  rheumatism  and 
old  age,  but  which  Dorothea  declared  was  only  retribu- 
tion overtaking  him  ;  because  he  had  barked  one  morn- 
ing to  allure  Adsum  from  his  breakfast,  and  when  the 
ever-faithful  creature  had  gone  to  look  for  the  cows 
which  Whack's  bark  indicated,  it  was  to  find  he  had  been 
sold  and  lost  his  breakfast  to  boot ;  for  Whack  compla- 
cently ate  it  up,  and  in  turning  sharply  slipped  off  the 


FALLEN   UPON   EVIL  DAYS.  95 

high  porch  in  his  unwary  and  wicked  haste,  and  forever 
carried  his  head  on  one  side  in  punishment.  As  for  the 
fox-hounds,  they  had  all  been  turned  over  long  ago 
to  Captain  Esten,  who  had  established  quite  a  kennel ; 
and  as  Gilbert  had  grown  weary  of  keeping  up  the  dogs 
and  training  the  young  ones,  it  was  with  relief  and  satis- 
faction that  he  met  Captain  Esten's  proposition  to  take 
the  old  and  experienced  pack,  add  them  to  his  own,  and 
keep  them  for  the  benefit  of  the  fox-hunters  in  the 
neighborhood.  So  the  old  shepherd  dogs  were  the  only 
ones  left  at  Airlie. 

Gilbert  still  kept  a  couple  of  hunters  for  himself,  the 
carriage-horses  for  Dorothea  and  Comanche  for  Robin, 
together  with  the  necessary  farm  horses  and  young  colts 
that  were  always  growing  up  and  which  ran  wild  in  the 
fields.  He  had  been  promising  himself  to  purchase,  if 
he  ever  could  afford  it,  a  young  horse  for  his  daughter, 
as  Comanche  was  getting  pretty  old  for  cross-country 
riding,  but  Robin  had  begged  her  father  not  to  do  so, 
telling  him  that  one  of  the  young  colts  in  the  field  would 
do  to  break  in  the  spring.  She  did  not,  however,  say 
that  she  intended  to  break  and  teach  him  with  her 
own  hand,  for  she  knew  her  father  would  never  think  it 
proper  for  her  to  do  so  ;  but  with  that  end  in  view,  she 
went  every  day  to  the  field  where  he  pastured,  and  with 
a  few  lumps  of  sugar  soon  accustomed  him  to  her 
approach  and  finally  to  come  at  her  call.  Whenever  he 
would  catch  sight  of  her  he  would  come  trotting,  stand 


96  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

shyly  a  few  paces  off,  and  then  gradually  take  the  sugar 
from  her  hand  and  even  endure  a  caress  or  two.  At  last 
he  would  follow  her  all  over  the  field,  and  the  girl  knew 
that  no  Comanche  bridle  would  ever  have  to  be  used 
upon  him. 

Breakfast  the  morning  after  the  hunt  had  passed  rather 
heavily.  Dorothea  and  Robin  were  silent.  Gilbert  was 
very  talkative  and  full  of  enthusiasm  over  the  success  of 
the  chase  and  his  daughter's  fine  riding.  He  did  not 
seem  conscious  that  any  thing  was  amiss.  When  Dorothea 
finally  rose  and  said,  "  I  'd  like  to  have  a  word  with  thee, 
Gilbert,"  Gilbert  looked  surprised,  but  said  with  a  twin- 
kle in  his  eyes,  as  he  glanced  at  his  daughter  : 

"  What  's  up  now,  Dorothy  ?  It  is  a  long  time  since 
thee  has  invited  either  Robin  or  me  to  a  private  inter- 
view ;  and  we  always  know  that  they  mean  scoldings, 
don't  we,  Robin  ?  " 

Robin  looked  pitifully  at  her  father,  thinking  how 
little  conscious  he  seemed  of  what  to  them  meant  ruin 
and  disgrace. 

Gilbert  followed  Dorothea  into  the  sitting-room.  Robin 
hurried  with  her  book  out  to  the  garden,  to  the  seat  un- 
der the  pear  tree  where  the  old  swing  used  to  be  years 
ago  ;  her  fresh,  young  face  clouded  over  and  pain  in  her 
eyes,  as  she  pictured  her  father's  surprise  and  mortifica- 
tion at  what  her  mother  was  about  to  say,  and  the  distress 
and  sorrow  her  mother  would  feel  in  touching  openly 
upon  what  she  had  long  since  hidden  from  herself  even. 


FALLEN   UPON   EVIL   DAYS.  97 

"  Gilbert,"  began  Dorothea,  "  the  time  has  come  for 
me  to  speak." 

"  To  speak — what  about  ?  "  and  Gilbert  looked  his 
wife  full  in  the  face.  But  not  long  did  he  sustain  the 
unflinching  gaze  ;  the  ruddy  color  died  and  he  said 
gravely : 

"  Thee  knows,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  struggled  against  doubt,  till  doubt  became  cer- 
tainty, and  now  I  find  our  Robin  knows  it  and  I  can  keep 
silent  no  longer.  Oh  !  Gilbert,  if  thee  could  have  seen 
her  last  night  lay  her  head  down  and  sob,  and  beg  me  to 
be  gentle  with  thee,  to  remember  that  she  and  I  were  not 
hard  and  unforgiving,  I  am  sure  thy  heart  would  have 
been  wrung  as  mine  was  and  is.  Does  thee  think  I  have 
not  seen  for  several  years  the  growing  evil  ?  Does  thee 
think  I  do  not  know  how  heavily  in  debt  we  are  ?  Does 
thee  not  know  that  this  gnawing  anxiety  is  what  is  rob- 
bing me  of  health  and  strength,  and  does  thee  not  know 
where  this  will  bring  thee  ?  " 

"  But,  Dorothea,  I  have  never  been  really  under  the 

influence  of of "  and  Gilbert  hesitated  to  put 

it  into  words. 

"  Gilbert,  never  till  last  night  did  I  see  thee  absolutely 
not  thyself  ;  but  Robin  led  thee  up  from  the  stable  and 
guided  thee  to  thy  room.  It  was  a  scene  that  is  stamped 
upon  my  heart  and  brain,  and  I  thanked  Heaven  for 
the  first  time  in  all  my  life  that  our  boy  had  not  lived." 

Dorothea's  composure  gave  way.  She  sank  down  upon 
7 


98  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

the  sofa  and  buried  her  face  in  the  old  and  worn  pillow, 
that  Robin  had  cried  upon  over  the  spelling-book  so 
long  ago.  Gilbert  stood  immovable  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor.  His  mind  went  back  to  the  sweet  day  that  they 
had  stood  hand  in  hand  and  said  the  Friends'  ceremony, 
and  he  repeated  the  simple  words  :  "  In  the  presence  of 
the  Lord  and  before  this  assembly,  I  take  Dorothea  to  be 
my  wife,  promising  with  Divine  assistance  to  be  unto  her 
a  loving  and  faithful  husband  till  death  shall  separate 
us."  He  remembered  how  she  had  turned  to  him  and 
repeated  the  same  formula,  and  he  looked  at  the  pros- 
trate figure  before  him  and  noted  with  a  pang  how  the 
last  few  years  had  changed  her.  He  remembered  that  up 
to  the  time  Kane  was  hurt  there  had  not  been  a  line  in 
her  sweet  face.  Had  he  brought  all  the  lines  he  now 
saw  ?  had  he  disgraced  himself  in  her  eyes  and  in 
the  eyes  of  his  daughter  ?  he  asked  himself.  He  cov- 
ered his  face  with  his  hands  to  blot  out  the  picture,  and 
groaned  aloud  : 

"  Dorothea,  wife,  look  up  "  ;  and  stooping  over  her  he 
said  :  "  It  has  been  cruel  to  thee,  but  I  never  meant  to 
be  so  ;  I  have  tried  to  drown  my  troubles  and  shut  out 
the  thought  of  the  ruin  that  is  staring  us  in  the  face. 
But  I  will  subdue  and  control  this  thing  that  has  over- 
taken me  ;  I  believe,  Dorothea,  that  it  has  not  yet 
mastered  me." 

"  Gilbert,  I  know  it  has  not  ;  thee  can  exorcise  it 
entirely,  I  feel  sure,  if  thee  will  try." 


FALLEN   UPON   EVIL  DAYS.  99 

"  I  will  try  "  ;  and  as  he  spoke  he  bowed  his  head  and  a 
solemn  silence  fell  between  them.  In  a  few  moments  he 
said  hesitatingly  : 

"  Dorothea,  we  are  in  a  grave  situation  financially,  and 
I  have  not  known  what  it  is  to  be  free  from  anxiety  for 
several  years." 

"  I  know  it,  Gilbert,  and  we  must  find  a  way  out  of  it." 

"  Oh,  wife,  it  was  a  terrible  day  for  us  when  William 
Dale  became  treasurer  of  our  bank  and  I  went  on  his 
bond.  As  thee  knows,  when  he  died  suddenly  and  his 
accounts  were  looked  into  and  the  funds  were  missing,  I 
had  to  mortgage  our  home  to  meet  the  obligation.  Oh  ! 
the  ruin  it  has  been  to  us.  But,  Dorothea,  that  is  not 
all ;  I  have  not  been  able  to  meet  the  notes  on  the  mort- 
gage as  they  have  fallen  due." 

"  How  can  that  be  ?  they  must  have  been  paid  or  the 
mortgage  would  have  been  foreclosed." 

"  I  have  had  to  borrow  the  money  to  pay  each  of  the 
two  last,  and  the  next  has  to  be  met  First  Month,  and, 
wife,  I  do  not  know  where  the  money  is  to  come  from ; 
the  farm  is  scarcely  even  paying  expenses." 

"  How  much  is  the  entire  debt,  mortgage  and  borrowed 
money  ?  " 

"  The  mortgage  is  now  twelve  thousand.  I  have 
reduced  it  some,  as  thee  knows,  but  lately  I  have  bor- 
rowed about  two  years'  interest  money,  say  about  fifteen 
hundred  dollars." 

"  Well,  Gilbert,  we  must  sell." 


IOO  GILBERT   ELGAR  S   SON. 

"  Sell  ?  sell  what  ? " 

"We  must  sell  part  of  the  farm." 

"  Never,"  said  Gilbert,  emphatically.  Dorothea  went 
on : 

"  How  is  wheat  selling  this  fall  ?  " 

"  It  is  very  low,  and  our  crop  is  short." 

"  How  many  acres  are  in  wheat  at  present  ?  " 

"  Only  forty." 

"  Oh,  Gilbert,  we  have  nearly  five  hundred  acres,  and 
(Only  forty  sown  in  wheat  ?  "  There  was  a  long  pause. 
Dorothea  broke  it  : 

"Well,  my  husband,  we  will  try  to  pull  through.  I 
will  put  my  shoulder  to  the  wheel.  We  must,  to  start 
with,  reduce  every  expense  ;  we  must  sell  every  thing 
that  will  find  a  market :  the  two  carriage-horses,  your 
two  hunters,  and  a  couple  of  those  young  draught  horses  ; 
they  will  surely  meet  the  interest  money  this  coming 
year,  without  our  having  to  borrow.  We  will  reduce  the 
farm-hands  to  half  the  number  after  husking.  I  will  get 
rid  of  the  women-servants,  save  Joppa.  We  will  sell 
Comanche  too." 

"  No,  Dorothea,  Comanche  Dick  shall  not  go ;  he  's 
Robin's  idol.  But  I  tell  thee  what  we  might  sell ;  we 
might  sell  Whack  instead."  And  at  this  speech  the  old 
twinkle  came  to  Gilbert's  eyes,  for  he  was  one  of  those 
people  who  as  soon  as  a  burden  is  shifted  to  the  shoul- 
ders of  some  one  else  immediately  rebound  and  become 
delightfully  cheerful. 

"  This  can  scarcely  be  a  time  to  jest,  Gilbert," 


FALLEN   UPON   EVIL  DAYS.  IOI 

"  No,  wife,  it  is  no  joke.  I  will  see  about  selling  the 
horses.  I  can  find  purchasers,  I  think ;  if  not  here, 
certainly  in  town,  and  they  will  pay  this  year's  interest, 
as  thee  says." 

"  And,  Gilbert,  this  coming  spring  must  see  a  change 
in  the  working  of  the  farm  ;  thee  has  let  it  go  down  for 
the  last  six  or  seven  years,  and  I  saw  this  past  summer 
acre  after  acre  covered  over  with  sedge  and  choked  with 
daisies,  instead  of  being  in  wheat,  corn  or  potatoes. 
Kane,  as  thee  knows,  can  no  longer  get  about,  and 
somebody  must  come  to  the  front,  and  it  must  be  thee. 
Oh  !  how  I  wish  Richard  were  at  home  again." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  Dick  has  totally  forgotten  this  part 
of  the  world.  Did  I  not  tell  thee  years  ago  he  was  a 
selfish  dog  ?  I  heard  somewhere  the  other  day  that  an 
agent  had  been  at  Ivanwold  trying  to  arrange  for  its  sale." 

"  From  whom  did  thee  hear  it  ?  " 

"From  Thaddy Watkins,  but  he  is  such  an  everlasting 
liar  that  I  only  half  believed  him." 

"  Gilbert,  thee  must  not  use  such  dreadful  language  ; 
it  is  not  becoming  in  thee,  a  Friend,  to  speak  so  ;  but  I 
feel  sure  if  there  were  any  arrangement  a-foot  for  selling 
Ivanwold,  Deborah  would  have  told  us.  I  wish  the  boy 
were  home.  He  is  the  only  male  relative  we  have  in  all 
the  world." 

"  Thee  might  just  as  well  have  none,  so  far  as  he  is 
concerned." 

"  Gilbert,  will  thee  see  Robin,  and  tell  her  of  our  talk  ? 
she  will  expect  it." 


IO2  GILBERT   ELGAR  S   SON. 

"  Dorothea,  I  cannot ;  do  thee  go  to  her  ;  I  cannot 
face  her  ;  it  is  bad  enough  to  face  thee.  Does  thee  remem- 
ber our  wedding  day  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  remember  it  "  ;  and  Dorothea  laid  her  hand 
on  Gilbert's  arm  with  gentle  pressure. 

"  And  Gilbert,  I  may  rest  secure  in  thy  effort  to  keep 
thy  promise  ? " 

"  Yes,"  and  he  added  after  a  moment,  "  until  death  shall 
separate  us."  The  words  of  the  marriage  seemed  to  be 
ever  recurring  to  his  mind. 

A  loud  knock  on  the  outer  door  here  interrupted  them. 
Dorothea  opened  the  sitting-room  door  and  saw  Evan 
Massie's  long,  ungainly  figure  standing  on  the  porch. 

"  Oh,  it  is  thee,  Evan.  Thee  '11  find  Robin  waiting  for 
thee  in  the  garden  "  ;  and  as  Evan  passed  through  the 
house  in  search  of  his  pupil  Dorothea  said  :  "  There  is  an 
expense  that  can  be  done  away  with.  Robin  is  twenty, 
and  her  lessons  will  have  to  stop." 

"  Why,  bless  my  soul,  Dorothea,  I  have  n't  paid  Evan 
any  thing  in  a  year.  He  told  me  long  ago  that  he  would 
not  take  another  cent,  that  henceforth  the  lessons  were  to 
be  merely  for  pleasure." 

"  Thee  should  not  have  consented  to  such  an  arrange- 
ment ;  I  cannot  bear  obligations." 

"  I  could  scarcely  decline  ;  he  is  never  so  happy  as 
when  he  is  teaching  Robin."  And  this  closed  the  inter- 
view between  them. 

The  days  that  followed  were  busy  days  on  the  farm. 


FALLEN  UPON  EVIL  DAYS.  10$ 

After  corn-husking  and  butchering,  the  farm  hands  were 
reduced  to  three.  Joppa  alone  remained  in  the  kitchen. 
Every  thing  salable  was  sent  to  market — corn,  wheat 
and  potatoes.  Dorothea  counted  her  unusual  number  of 
fine  hams  hanging  in  paper  bags  in  the  smoke-house,  and 
she  thought  with  pride  that  with  the  sale  of  them  and  her 
turkeys  she  would  have  a  tidy  sum.  Gilbert  fidgeted 
about  and  declared  "  there  would  n't  be  a  thing  left  on 
the  place  fit  to  eat  if  every  thing  was  to  be  packed  off  to 
market,"  Dorothea  remarking  in  reply,  with  a  stern  look 
about  her  lips,  "  that  it  would  have  to  be  so — there  was 
no  choice." 

Towards  the  end  of  December  Gilbert  was  ready  to  go 
to  town  with  the  horses.  Comanche  stood  saddled  and 
bridled.  Two  men  had  charge  of  the  horses  that  were  to 
be  offered  for  sale  in  town. 

"  When  will  thee  be  back,  Gilbert  ?  "  asked  Dorothea 
anxiously. 

"  As  soon  as  I  can  ;  it  may  take  some  time  to  dispose 
of  them.  The  men  will  be  back  to-morrow." 

Dorothea  detained  Gilbert  yet  a  moment,  and  looking 
entreatingly  into  his  face  said  : 

"  Gilbert." 

"  I  will  remember,  wife,"  he  said  in  answer  to  her  mute 
appeal. 

Then  he  mounted,  waved  them  a  farewell  ;  and  Co- 
manche went  down  the  lane  picking  his  way  daintily 
over  the  frozen  ground. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    EVE    OF    CHRISTMAS. 

A  WEEK  had  passed  since  Gilbert  went  to  town. 
Dorothea  and  Robin  were  both  anxious  about  him. 
The  men  had  returned  immediately,  as  Gilbert  had  prom- 
ised they  should.  In  a  few  days  he  wrote  that  he  had 
sold  four  of  the  horses  and  had  a  chance  for  the  remain- 
ing two,  and  that  he  would  be  back  at  the  end  of  the 
week.  This  was  a  great  relief  to  mother  and  daughter. 

Christmas  was  at  hand  and  the  two  women  were  busy 
with  preparations.  Great  was  the  baking  and  stewing  that 
went  on  at  Airlie ;  for  all  of  the  negroes  on  the  place 
and  their  families  would  present  themselves  Christmas 
morning  for  a  "  giff  "  and  some  Christmas  cheer ;  and 
during  the  day  all  the  men  in  the  neighborhood  would  be 
sure  to  ride  over  with  Christmas  greetings,  as  the  custom 
was  in  the  neighborhood,  and  there  must  be  something  to 
offer  each  visitor  as  he  came  in  from  the  cold. 

Robin  had  been  out  in  the  keen  winter  air  gathering 
holly.  She  came  in  with  her  arms  full  of  branches  cov- 
ered with  bright  red  berries,  and  dropped  them  on  the 

104 


THE   EVE   OF   CHRISTMAS.  10$ 

rug  before  the  open  fire.  She  put  her  hands  up  to  her 
ears,  which  she  briskly  rubbed,  for  it  was  in  vain  that  her 
mother  had  tried  to  persuade  her  to  wear  a  hood,  such  as 
all  the  other  girls  did  in  the  country  in  winter. 

"  No,  mother,"  she  always  replied,  "  it  is  too  childish  ; 
I  want  to  be  hardy  and  ruddy  ;  I  don't  mean  to  coddle 
myself." 

As  she  stood  before  the  fire  with  the  holly  at  her  feet, 
she  was  the  very  picture  of  health  and  strength.  There 
was  a  certain  fearlessness  in  her  glance  and  in  her  move- 
ments that  made  her  unlike  any  one  Dorothea  could 
think  of,  unless  it  was  Dick  as  he  had  been  when  he  went 
away  years  before.  Yes,  somehow  Robin  did  suggest  Dick 
to  her  ;  not  in  face  or  feature,  for  Dick  had  blue  eyes 
and  was  decidedly  blonde,  while  Robin's  eyes  were  gray, 
so  deep  at  times  as  to  be  almost  black.  Her  brown  hair 
had  the  red  glint  that  it  had  had  when  a  child  and,  as  her 
mother  had  prophesied  to  her  years  before,  was  not  short 
and  curly,  "  like  Cousin  Dick's,"  but  rippled  away  from 
her  forehead  and  was  fastened  in  graceful,  careless 
fashion  at  the  back  of  her  shapely  head.  Her  skin  was 
clear  and  without  blemish,  although  the  tan  and  burn  of 
summer  still  lingered. 

As  she  stood  there,  Dorothea  wondered  if  this  were 
really  beauty  that  she  looked  upon,  or  was  she  a  fond, 
doting  mother  seeing  only  with  the  eyes  of  love  ?  But 
when  the  girl  stooped  and  picked  up  a  cluster  of  the  ber- 
ries and  laid  it  lovingly  against  her  cheek,  Dorothea  said 


io6  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

to  herself  with  a  thrill  of  pleasure,  "  It  is  real  living, 
breathing  beauty,  and  as  true  within  as  without." 

"  Mother,  I  must  put  some  of  these  branches  of  holly 
in  father's  room  ;  he  loves  it,  and  he  may  be  here  any 
moment."  As  she  spoke  she  arranged  and  tied  it  deftly 
in  bunches. 

"  But,  daughter,  it  is  too  early  to  put  it  up  ;  the  berries 
will  drop  off  before  Christmas-day." 

"Well,  perhaps  I  had  better  wait  a  little."  She 
paused  a  moment  in  her  work,  and  glanced  out  of  the 
windows,  exclaiming  :  "  Here  comes  a  messenger  from 
the  Estens."  She  was  out  on  the  porch,  and  in  a 
moment  had  in  her  hands  a  note,  from  which  she  read 
eagerly  : 

"  Harmony  says  her  father  has  asked  the  young  men's 
club  to  meet  there  Sixth-Day  evening ;  that  will  be 
Christmas-eve  ;  and  she  wants  me  to  come  over  and  help 
her  during  the  afternoon  with  the  tables,  and  stay  during 
the  evening  and  wait  upon  the  club.  She  will  send  for 
me  and  send  me  back  again,  as  she  knows  father  is  not 
at  home.  She  has  asked  Cousin  Deb  and  one  or  two 
others.  What  does  thee  think  ? " 

"  I  think  thee  must  go,  of  course." 

"  But,  mother,  I  cannot  leave  thee  alone.  If  father  is 
not  here  by  that  time  I  will  not  go." 

"  Thee  need  not  stop  at  home  on  that  account.  I 
shall  have  Joppa  with  me,  and  I  will  keep  Kane  at  the 
house  till  thee  gets  back  again." 


THE  EVE  OF  CHRISTMAS.  IO? 

"  But  if  father  were  to  come  while  I  am  gone  ? "  and 
she  looked  at  her  mother  earnestly. 

"  If  father  comes,  he  will  come  all  right,  never  thee 
fear."  So  it  was  settled. 

The  neighborhood  of  Fenny  Drayton  abounded  in 
societies  and  clubs,  which  met  at  stated  intervals  at  the 
different  places  in  regular  turn.  There  were  the  Far- 
mers' Club,  the  Ladies'  Association,  jocosely  called  the 
"  Club's  Wife,"  and  one  or  two  others,  to  some  or  all  of 
which  a  goodly  portion  of  the  Friends  belonged.  It  was 
a  great  feature  of  the  Farmers'  Club  to  be  invited  each 
Christmas-tide  to  The  Hatch  to  hold  its  meeting.  Cap- 
tain Esten  was  not  a  regular  member,  but  he  always 
liked  to  entertain  the  club  in  winter  and  the  "  Club's 
Wife  "  in  summer. 

Whenever  a  club  meeting  was  held  it  always  took  the 
women  of  the  household  two  days  to  prepare  for  it. 
Hams  were  boiled,  chickens  or  turkeys  roasted,  spiced- 
beef  prepared,  steaming  pans  of  hot  rolls  baked,  bowls 
of  "  flannel  "  cakes  stirred  up,  and  big  loaves  of  "  Sally 
Lunn,"  golden-brown  from  the  oven,  made  ready  in 
such  profusion  as  would  have  served  to  provision  a  small 
army.  It  had  been  a  custom  since  the  early  establish- 
ment of  the  Club  to  invite  three  or  four  of  the  young 
women  of  the  neighborhood  to  help  wait  upon  the 
tables  ;  for  so  fast  would  the  dishes  disappear  that  no 
household  had  enough  domestics  to  supply  the  demand 
for  the  various  good  things.  The  young  farmers  would 


io8  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

begin  to  assemble  about  half -past  three  in  the  afternoon, 
and  as  soon  as  enough  were  present  to  make  a  goodly 
representation  they  would  all  start,  with  their  host  in 
advance,  and  walk  over  the  entire  place,  inspecting  every 
thing,  asking  questions,  comparing  notes  and  offering 
comments.  After  inspection  they  would  adjourn  to  the 
house,  and  a  business  meeting,  with  closed  doors,  would 
be  held,  and  long  discussions  as  to  the  best  methods  of 
farming,  raising  cattle  or  carrying  on  a  dairy  would 
occupy  an  hour  and  a  half  or  more.  Then  the  bountiful 
supper  would  be  served,  after  which,  with  lighted  pipes, 
the  club  would  depart. 

Sixth-Day  came  round,  and  still  Gilbert  had  not 
returned.  Robin  had  been  restless.  Some  nameless 
dread  seemed  to  hang  over  her  all  day.  She  was  on  the 
point  of  sending  an  excuse  to  The  Hatch,  but  Dorothea 
would  not  permit  it.  In  the  afternoon  a  light,  fine  snow 
began  to  fall,  the  first  of  the  winter,  and  when  the 
Estens'  carriage  came  Dorothea  remarked  : 

"  Thee  '11  come  home  in  a  sleigh,  I  doubt  not,  for  we 
are  going  to  have  our  Christmas  snow." 

"  Mother,  it  is  not  too  late  ;  do  let  me  stay  with 
thee  ? " 

"  Nonsense  ;  give  my  love  to  Harmony  and  Deborah. 
Tell  Deborah  I  have  some  splendid  sausage-meat  I  will 
send  down  to  her  in  a  day  or  two."  And  they  parted. 

The  Hatch  was  soon  reached,  and  Robin  was  met  at 
the  steps  by  Harmony. 


THE   EVE   OF  CHRISTMAS.  109 

"  I  was  so  afraid  you  might  not  come  ;  and  before  we 
go  into  the  house  I  want  to  say  that  the  Standishes  have 
come  out  from  town  to  spend  Christmas  with  us,  and 
I  've  asked  Jared  Comly  and  Mr.  Watkins  to  stay  after 
the  club  is  over  and  spend  the  evening,  and  your  cousin 
Deborah  too  ;  so  you  must  stay." 

"  I  cannot  stay  late,  Harmony,  for  mother  is  all  alone. 
Father  has  not  come  yet,  though  we  expect  him  to-night. 
But  what  will  Sara  Standish  think  of  our  country  men  ?  " 

"  Think  ?  why  I  don't  much  care  what  she  thinks.  She 
has  entered  into  it,  and  is  going  to  help  us  with  the  tables." 

"  And  her  brother  ? " 

"  Well,  I  don't  understand  Henry  Standish  ;  I  am 
curious  to  know  how  he  will  strike  you." 

"  You  know,  Harmony,  my  impression  counts  for 
little  ;  I  've  seen  so  few  men  outside  of  our  own  neigh- 
borhood. I  can  scarcely  dare  to  measure  a  man  of  the 
world  by  our  simple  Quaker  standard.  Now  if  you  ask 
me  what  I  think  of  Thaddy  Watkins,  I  can  tell  you  in 
two  words  ;  "  and  for  some  unexplained  reason  the  two 
girls  went  off  into  merry  laughter,  and  were  only  startled 
into  sobriety  by  a  voice  calling  out : 

"  Miss  Robin,  you  dropped  your  dloves.  I  foun'  'em 
lyin'  in  a  little  bun'le  at  the  horse-block." 

With  this  remark,  a  tall,  dark-haired,  slender,  effemi- 
nate young  man  sprang  up  the  steps,  doffed  his  hat  and 
offered  the  "  dloves,"  as  he  called  them,  to  Robin,  who 
with  a  grave  face  said  : 


IIO  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

"  Thank  you  so  much,  Mr.  Watkins.  You  will  excuse 
Harmony  and  me  if  we  do  not  stop  ?  We  have  an  after- 
noon's work  before  us."  And  she  turned  to  enter  the 
house. 

"  Won'  you  shake  han's  with  me,  Miss  Harmony  ?  " 
said  Watkins,  holding  out  his  slender,  nerveless  hand. 

"  Why,  I  shook  '  han's '  with  you  this  morning,  Mr. 
Watkins,  when  you  first  came,"  said  Harmony,  with 
laughter  still  in  her  eyes  and  on  her  lips.  With  careless 
nods  the  two  girls  disappeared  into  the  house,  Harmony 
remarking  to  Robin,  when  out  of  hearing  :  "  Thad  Wat- 
kins  has  been  here  since  ten  o'clock  this  morning  ;  think 
of  it ! " 

The  young  man  meanwhile  stood  on  the  steps,  staring 
at  the  door  through  which  they  had  gone,  and  muttered 
to  himself  helplessly  :  "  I  'm  dam'  'f  I  know  whether  she 
was  laughin'  or  no." 

Thaddy  Watkins  belonged  to  a  well-known  family  in 
Maryland,  not  exactly  "  'ristocratic,"  as  the  Maryland 
darkies  would  put  it,  but  whole-hearted  kind  of  people 
whom  everybody  visited.  They  had  been  slave-owners, 
were  rich  and  still  kept  up  their  place  in  an  adjoining 
county  in  the  style  of  the  old  plantation  days.  Like 
many  other  families  in  the  same  State  and  standing,  they 
had  a  peculiarity  of  speech  which  marked  them  as  dis- 
tinctly Marylanders  of  perhaps  not  the  most  cultivated 
type.  Thaddy,  as  he  was  called  familiarly,  spent  most  of 
his  time  in  the  neighborhood  of  Fenny  Drayton.  He  was 


THE   EVE   OF   CHRISTMAS.  Ill 

sure  to  be  found  in  every  gathering,  and  would  often 
come  early  in  the  day  and  stay  for  hours  at  a  stretch,  or 
even  over-night  without  much  persuasion.  He  was 
tolerated  by  the  men  for  his  good  nature,  but  was 
laughed  at  unmercifully  by  the  young  women  of  the 
neighborhood,  which,  however,  he  did  not  seem  to  mind 
in  the  least. 

Robin  and  Harmony  commenced  the  setting  of  the 
long  tables  in  the  dining-room,  preparatory  to  the  big 
supper.  They  were  aided  by  Deborah  and  Sara  Stand- 
ish.  Harmony  was  arranging  bowls  of  flowers  for  the 
tables,  when  Deborah  spoke  up  in  her  high-pitched, 
quick  way  : 

"  What  's  the  use  of  the  flowers,  Harmony  ?  You  'd 
better  a  long  way  put  a  dish  of  buttered  flannel  cakes  or 
a  pyramid  of  Sally  Lunn  in  the  middle  of  each  table  ; 
men  go  in  for  good  solid  dishes,  and  don't  care  a  button 
for  flowers  unless  they  could  eat  'em." 

"  But,  Miss  Deb,  it  can't  do  any  harm  ;  they  are  so 
pretty,  and,  besides,  I  robbed  the  greenhouse  of  every 
blossom,  and  they  can't  be  wasted.  What  do  you  think, 
Robin  ? " 

"  No  use  to  ask  her,"  said  Deborah  ;  "  she  '11  say  put 
'em  on.  I  only  wonder  she  did  n't  dig  up  an  old  Greek 
root  and  bring  it  along  as  a  decoration." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  Miss  Elgar  really  knows  any  thing 
about  Greek  ? "  asked  Miss  Standish,  looking  curiously 
at  Robin. 


112  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

"  Bless  me,  yes,"  continued  Deborah  ;  "  she  reads 
Greek  and  goodness  knows  what  besides.  You  'd  better 
not  tackle  her  ;  she  's  had  more  book-learning  than  any 
man  I  ever  met."  And  lowering  her  voice  to  a  whisper, 
so  that  Robin  might  not  hear,  she  added  :  "  Besides  that, 
she  is  not  only  a  case  of  'handsome  is  '  but  'handsome 
does '  too." 

"  Hear  !  hear  !  "  struck  in  a  voice,  and  Henry  Stand- 
ish,  Sara's  brother,  attracted  by  the  voices  in  the  dining- 
room,  strolled  into  the  room  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 
His  eyes  scanned  the  group  of  women,  falling  instantly 
upon  Robin,  at  whom  he  gazed  fixedly,  taking  his  hands 
slowly  out  of  his  pockets  meanwhile.  There  was  a  pause  ; 
then  Sara  said  : 

"  Henry,  let  me  present  you  to  Miss  Elgar." 

"Was  it  you,  Miss  Elgar,  who  was  being  so  eulogized 
as  I  came  in  ?  I  heard  something  about  Greek  and 
something  about  Sally  Lunn,  and  something  about 
beauty  ;  will  you  not  repeat  it  for  my  benefit  ? "  and  he 
looked  at  Robin  half  quizzically,  half  lazily. 

"  Well,  the  Greek,  Mr.  Standish,  might  prove  too  dead 
a  language  to  some  of  us.  The  Sally  Lunn  I  will  help 
you  to  later,  and  the  beauty,"  Robin  looked  up  at  him 
with  a  half -challenge,  "  you  can  take  your  pick  of  ;  there 
are  four  of  us,  you  see,"  and  she  nodded  towards  Sara, 
Harmony,  and  Deborah.  They  all  laughed,  then  Har- 
mony said  ; 

"  Why  are  n't  you  in  helping  to  settle  the  question  of 


THE   EVE   OF   CHRISTMAS.  113 

the  proper  way  to  house  stock  in  winter  ?  we  are  too 
busy  out  here  to  be  amusing." 

"  That  is  a  gentle  hint,  and  I  will  take  myself  off,  lest 
it  grow  broader.  I  consider  it  a  compact  then,  Miss 
Elgar,  that  you  wait  upon  me  at  supper  and  see  that 
I  have  '  Sally  Lunn,'  whatever  '  Sally  Lunn  '  may  be." 
Robin  nodded  acquiescence  and  Henry  Standish  strolled 
out  of  the  room  with  a  last  admiring  look  toward  her. 

The  afternoon  wore  away  and  night  fell  ;  lamps  were 
set  upon  the  long,  heavily-laden  tables,  the  last  hot  dishes 
were  brought  in,  the  old-fashioned  doors  were  opened 
and  folded  back  against  the  wall,  and  Captain  Esten 
exclaimed  in  a  loud,  hearty  voice  : 

"  That  's  a  sight  to  gladden  one  ;  come,  fellows,  fall 
to,"  and  the  club  soon  filled  all  the  seats,  and  the  busi- 
ness of  supper  began. 

Three  among  the  young  men  were  more  interested  in 
the  movements  of  the  waitresses  than  in  the  viands 
served.  Jared  Comly  followed  Robin's  movements, 
while  Henry  Standish  and  Thaddy  watched  Harmony  as 
she  flitted  about.  Thaddy  exclaimed  at  last,  as  she 
passed  him  by  without  stopping  : 

"  Ain'  you  goin'  to  give  a  fella  some  flannen  cakes, 
Miss  Harmony  ? " 

"  Do,  some  one,  give  that  boy  some  '  flannen  '  cakes, 
as  he  calls  'em,"  commanded  Deborah,  who  was  pouring 
coffee  at  a  side  table. 

"  I   'm  dlad  you   're  keepin'  your  eye   on  me,  Miss 


1 14  GILBERT   ELGAR  S   SON. 

Deb'ra',  for  I  'd  be  starvin'  by  this  time,"  plaintively  said 
Thaddy.  Gazing  reproachfully  at  Harmony,  he  said  in 
a  low  tone  :  "  You  don'  do  like  Miss  Rob  does  ;  she  "s 
helped  Stan'ish  to  Sally  Lunn  twice  already." 

Meanwhile  the  rest  of  the  men  were  discussing  politics, 
and  as  both  sides  were  well  represented  the  talk  grew 
warm  and  loud  ;  especially  when  it  turned  upon  "  local 
option  "  and  its  effect  in  the  county  upon  the  election. 
In  all  of  which  Jared  bore  a  foremost  part,  but  no 
matter  how  much  absorbed  he  seemed  in  the  discussion, 
if  by  chance  Robin  stopped  near  him  his  eyes  rested 
upon  her  till  she  moved  away.  If  she  handed  him  any 
thing  he  let  his  remark  go  unfinished  to  say  a  low,  grave 
word  of  thanks. 

At  last  supper  was  over  ;  the  folding  doors  were 
closed  and  the  tired  young  waitresses  had  a  quiet  tea- 
table  of  their  own,  presided  over  by  Deborah.  After 
which,  the  club  having  departed,  all  save  the  two  young 
men  who  had  been  asked  to  stay,  the  party  adjourned  to 
the  long  drawing-room,  full  of  its  queer  trophies  from 
foreign  lands,  its  bric-a-brac,  its  rugs,  and  its  rich, 
Oriental  hangings.  A  huge  fire  leaped  and  danced 
in  the  wide  fireplace,  and  as  the  party  drew  about  it 
Harmony  pulled  down  the  shades  and  drew  the  heavy 
curtains  over  the  windows,  remarking  : 

*'  It  is  snowing  hard,  and  you  must  stay  overnight, 
Robin." 

"  I  cannot,  Harmony  ;  I  cannot  leave  mother.  Father 
had  not  come  when  I  left,  you  know." 


THE  EVE  OF  CHRISTMAS.  115 

"  How  did  thee  come  over,  Robin  ?  "  asked  Jared  in  a 
low  tone. 

"  I  came  in  the  Estens'  carriage  ;  they  sent  for  me,  and 
will  take  me  back." 

"  Thee  had  better  let  me  take  thee  home ;  it  is  a  bad 
night,  and  I  don't  like  the  idea  of  that  ride  for  thee  with 
only  a  servant." 

"  I  am  not  afraid,  Jared  ;  but  if  thee  wishes  I  will  go 
with  thee,  and  it  will  save  them  from  sending  me  home," 
she  frankly  replied.  Satisfied  with  the  promise,  he 
moved  away. 

Jared  Comly  was  a  man  to  be  remarked  anywhere 
among  men.  He  was  above  medium  height,  compactly 
built  and  muscular.  '  His  features  were  perfectly  regular 
and  clearly  cut  ;  he  had  straight,  dark  hair,  straight 
brows,  and  deep-set,  restless  eyes  the  color  of  which 
it  was  hard  to  define  :  they  were  eyes,  now  dark,  now 
light,  that  could  be  stern  and  fierce  one  moment,  then 
become  soft  and  gentle  the  next.  His  chin  and  mouth 
were  firm,  though  the  latter  rarely  relaxed  into  a  smile, 
and  the  lips  curled  away  at  the  corners  into  an  expres- 
sion that  at  times  was  far  from  pleasant.  His  face,  with 
its  singularly  clear,  pale,  skin,  was  uncovered  by  beard 
or  moustache,  and  was  indicative  of  strength  and  intelli- 
gence, although  there  was  something  of  hardness  and 
obstinacy  in  it,  and  something  of  repression  too.  Jared 
ought  to  have  been  a  handsome  man,  but  he  was  not. 
He  was  a  man  whom  all  men  in  the  community  of 
Friends  respected,  although  they  often  were  a  little 


n6  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

shy  of  him.  Some  one  said  he  had  a  bad  temper,  and 
was  uncertain  in  mood.  He  was  a  strong  contrast  to 
the  other  men  present :  Thaddy,  with  his  unformed, 
effeminate  make-up  ;  Henry  Standish,  with  his  indolent 
manner,  half-flippant,  half-cynical. 

Robin  noted  them  each  as  she  sat  in  the  deep  arm- 
chair with  the  firelight  playing  over  her  face,  and  she 
thought  that  Jared  was  after  all  about  the  only  real  man 
in  the  neighborhood  ;  and  yet 

"  Miss  Rob,  what  you  thinkin'  of  ?  " 

"  I  am  thinking,  Master  Thaddy,  that  I  cannot  allow 
any  one  to  call  me  '  Miss  Rob.'  ' 

"  Aw,  come  now,  but  you  let  Comly  leave  off  the  han'le 
entirely,  then  you  come  down  on  a  fella  when  he  does  like 
I  did."  And  Thaddy  drew  up  his  chair  and  was  just 
preparing  to  seat  himself  at  Robin's  side,  when  Henry 
Standish  said  : 

"  Watkins,  Miss  Harmony  wants  you." 

"Well  I  'm  dlad  some  on'  wants  me,"  and  Thaddy 
went  to  the  other  end  of  the  room  where  Harmony  was 
making  tea  at  a  dainty  little  tea  table. 

"  Mr.  Watkins,  will  you  help  hand  the  cups  ?  " 

"  Miss  Harm'ny,  don'  you  sen'  me  off.  I  Ve  done 
more  erran's  to-night,  and  been  worse  treated  than  any- 
body yere.  Make  that  lazy  Stan'ish  fella  han'  the  cups. 
Yere  Stan'ish,  you  come  and  han'  these  cups." 

Standish  did  not  move  nor  even  hear,  but  went  on 
talking  in  an  undertone  to  Robin. 


THE  EVE  OF  CHRISTMAS. 

At  last  Robin  rose  and  said  she  must  go  ;  but  Captain 
Esten  insisted  that  she  must  first  have  a  glass  of  egg-nogg 
to  celebrate  Christmas-tide.  The  big  bowl  was  brought 
in  on  a  tray,  and  several  toasts  were  drunk  standing  ; 
after  which  good-nights  were  said,  and  Jared  and  Robin 
were  on  their  way  to  Airlie. 

The  snow  was  several  inches  deep  on  the  ground,  but 
it  had  quite  ceased  falling.  Only  an  occasional  flake 
fell  upon  their  faces  as  they  made  their  way  rather 
slowly  over  the  white,  unbroken  road.  Long  silences 
fell  between  them.  Robin  was  anxious  about  her  father, 
and  was  fearing  that  she  would  find  he  had  not  returned. 
To-morrow  would  be  Christmas-day,  the  holly  was  all 
up  and  every  thing  ready  to  welcome  him.  She  grew 
impatient  and  said  :  "  Do  hurry,  Jared,  I  am  so  anxious 
to  know  about  father."  They  were  soon  at  Airlie,  and 
as  they  were  about  to  turn  in  the  lane,  Robin  exclaimed: 

"  There  are  broken  tracks  all  up  the  lane,  Jared ; 
father  must  have  come  ;  I  am  so  relieved."  And 
scarcely  had  they  stopped  when  she  had  sprung  lightly 
to  the  ground,  running  her  eye  over  the  house,  which  was 
silent  and  dark  ;  then,  turning  her  gaze  intently  toward 
the  stable,  she  suddenly  grasped  Jared's  arm  and  said  : 

"  What  is  that  moving  down  near  the  stable  door, 
Jared?" 

"  I  do  not  see  any  thing." 

"  There  is  certainly  something  standing  there  ;  I  can 
see  it  distinctly  against  the  snow." 


n8  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

"  I  see  something,  too ;  I  will  go  and  find  out." 

Robin  followed  a  few  steps  behind  him.  Jared  called 
back : 

"  It  is  only  one  of  thy  horses  that  has  been  shut  out 
from  the  stable."  With  a  bound  Robin  was  ahead  of 
Jared  and  came  close  to  the  dark  form. 

"  It  is  Comanche  Dick,  with  the  saddle  still  on  and 
father's  bridle  dragging  in  the  snow  "  ;  and  the  girl  shut 
her  hands  together  convulsively  to  keep  down  the  quiver 
that  shook  her  from  head  to  foot,  as  an  awful  fear  took 
possession  of  her. 

"  What  can  it  mean  ?  "  asked  Jared  in  a  dull  tone. 

"  It  means  that  father  has  either  been  thrown, 
or "  She  paused,  unable  to  finish  the  sentence. 

"  Wait,  Jared  "  ;  and  before  he  could  understand  her 
intention,  she  turned  and  ran  swiftly  to  the  house. 
Entering  the  door  on  tip-toe  she  found  a  dim  light 
burning  in  the  hall,  and  stealing  to  the  sitting-room,  she 
found  her  mother  sleeping  quietly  on  the  old  sofa,  with 
a  rug  thrown  over  her  feet,  and  a  placid  look  on  her  face. 
She  was  evidently  waiting  for  Robin  and  Gilbert  to 
come.  The  girl  stole  out  with  trembling  limbs  and  beat- 
ing heart.  She  found  Jared  at  the  steps. 

"  Something  terrible  has  happened.  Father  is  not 
here.  Mother  is  sound  asleep.  Thee  '11  help  me  to  find 
father,  Jared  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  Thee  go  get  on  Comanche  ;  I  will  drive  thy  horse. 


THE   EVE   OF   CHRISTMAS.  119 

We  will  stop  at  Airlie,  wake  up  the  toll-gate  keeper,  he 
has  a  trap,  we  '11  make  him  follow  in  it. 

"  Why  not  let  me  go  with  thee  ?  " 

"  Does  n't  thee  see  ?  Comanche  will  know will 

know "  and  the  terrible  anguish  at  what  her  mind 

pictured  overcame  Robin  for  a  moment.  With  no  further 
word  Jared  brought  up  Comanche,  who  seemed  dejected 
and  tired. 

"  Had  not  thee  better  wake  thy  mother  first  and  tell 
her  thy  fear  ? " 

"  No,  let  mother  sleep  as  long  as  she  can." 

And  the  pair,  so  curiously  divided,  went  swiftly  down 
the  lane  again,  the  soft  snow  drowning  the  noise  of  the 
wheels,  up  through  the  village  where  Jared  soon  had  the 
toll-keeper  up,  who  exclaimed,  "  Lord  bless  my  soul," 
when  they  explained  their  mission.  In  a  few  moments 
he  had  run  out  from  under  a  shed  a  long,  covered  wagon, 
and  to  save  time  changed  Jared's  horse  from  the  vehicle 
Robin  was  driving  to  the  wagon,  and  Robin  and  the  toll- 
keeper  got  in  together.  But  several  people  in  the  village 
had  been  awakened  by  the  muffled  voices  and  the  run- 
ning of  the  wagon  out  from  the  shed  ;  who,  thinking  that 
perhaps  horse-thieves  were  abroad,  called  out  to  them  to 
stop,  and  not  till  the  well-known  toll-keeper's  voice  rang 
out  with  "  Damn  it  all,  go  to  bed,  it  's  Jim  Barnes," 
were  windows  slammed  and  they  allowed  to  proceed  on 
their  way  ;  but  not  far.  A  short  half-mile  down  the  pike, 
right  across  the  road,  lay  stretched  a  dark  object,  with 


I2O  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

only  a  few  snow-flakes  resting  upon  it.  The  party 
halted,  and  the  three  were  instantly  on  the  ground. 
Robin  knelt  down  quickly  and  fumbled  with  trembling 
cold  fingers  to  open  vest  and  shirt  to  feel  for  the  heart. 
There  was  a  moment's  pause,  then  looking  up  into 
the  faces  of  the  two  men,  she  said,  in  a  despairing  tone  : 

MI  think  he  is  dead.     Lift  him  gently." 

The  two  men  lifted  Gilbert  Elgar  into  the  wagon, 
Robin  standing  silently  and  quietly  in  the  snow  till  it  was 
accomplished.  The  trembling  and  quiver  were  all  gone  ; 
the  excitement  and  the  anguish  of  fear  all  swallowed  up 
in  the  awful  reality.  Slowly  they  made  their  way  back 
again.  Silently  the  wagon  drove  up  the  lane,  crossing 
the  lawn  to  the  very  steps  of  the  porch.  The  wheel 
grated  against  the  lower  step,  and  as  it  did  so  Dorothea 
opened  the  door,  with  the  lamp  turned  up  bright,  and 
said  : 

"Isitthee,  Robin?" 

"Yes,  mother,  and  father  is  with  me."  Robin  came 
quietly  forward,  took  the  lamp  from  her  mother's  hand 
and  set  it  in  the  window.  In  doing  so  she  made  a 
motion  to  the  two  men,  saying  in  an  undertone  : 

"  Up-stairs,  Jared."  Then  leading  her  mother  into 
the  sitting-room  she  shut  the  door.  How  she  broke  the 
news,  and  what  passed,  neither  ever  told.  In  a  few 
moments  all  was  in  confusion.  Jared  thought  that 
Gilbert  was  not  dead,  and  rode  off  for  the  doctor,  whom 
he  brought  back  in  an  hour.  The  doctor  pronounced 


THE  EVE  OF  CHRISTMAS.  121 

Gilbert  to  be  living,  and  said  it  was  "  a  stroke "  ;  he 
might  die  any  moment,  or  he  might  live  some  time. 

And  with  death  staring  them  in  the  face,  Christmas 
morning,  with  its  green  garlands  and  holly  berries, 
dawned  bright  and  clear  upon  Airlie. 


CHAPTER  X. 

I      WALK     ALONE.' 


—  Via  Soli  tar  ia. 


THE  news  of  the  calamity  at  Airlie  spread  rapidly 
through  the  neighborhood.  It  was  carried  from 
house  to  house  with  ever- varying  details.  Every  one  was 
shocked,  and  a  cloud  was  cast  over  the  bright  Christmas- 
day.  Gilbert  Elgar  was  the  last  man  in  all  Fenny 
Drayton  whom  any  one  would  imagine  having  "  a  stroke." 
He  had  never  had  a  sick  day  in  his  life,  and  was  the  pic- 
ture of  health,  so  the  people  told  each  other  ;  only  a  few 
nodded  their  heads  and  looked  wise.  Every  one  won- 
dered how  things  would  be  left  with  the  Elgars,  for 
Gilbert  was  known  to  have  been  in  a  "  bad  way " 
financially,  and  many  were  the  low-whispered  prophecies 
that  Airlie  would  be  brought  under  the  hammer.  For 
what  could  two  women  do  with  a  run-down  farm,  with  a 
twelve-thousand-dollar  mortgage  on  it,  and  no  one  to 
turn  to  for  help  ? 

All  day  long  at  Airlie  a  stream  of  sleighs  and  carriages 
came  and  went,  bearing  kind  inquiries  and  offers  of  help. 
Deborah  came  over  from  the  Estens,  where  she  had  stayed 

122 


"  I   WALK  ALONE."  123 

the  night  before,  and  took  the  direction  of  household 
matters.  Evan  Massie  and  Jared  arranged  to  stay 
alternate  nights  and  watch  in  the  sick-room,  to  be 
relieved  the  second  week,  if  Gilbert  should  linger,  by  a 
relay  chosen  from  among  the  men  in  the  neighborhood  ; 
for  it  was  the  invariable  custom  among  the  Friends,  in 
cases  of  illness,  to  take  turns  in  remaining  with  the 
family,  either  to  help  nurse  or  to  be  of  use  in  any  way  in 
lifting  the  burden  as  much  as  possible  from  the  shoulders 
of  the  near  and  dear  ones.  Dorothea  and  Robin  sat 
quietly  at  the  bedside,  hoping  for  some  change,  some 
sign  of  life  beyond  the  feeble  pulse  and  faint  respiration. 
Again  and  again  during  that  long  day  did  the  mother's 
eyes  seek  the  daughter's  imploringly,  asking  ever  mutely 
the  one  question  that  was  torturing  her  heart  and  soul  : 
"  Had  Gilbert  kept  his  promise  to  her,  or  was  this  the 
result  of  his  old  enemy  ?  "  And  ever  doubtingly  the 
daughter's  eyes  returned  the  mute  question. 

Only  once  during  the  day  did  Robin  leave  the  silent 
room.  Then  she  stole  down,  out  of  the  house,  through 
the  snow  to  the  stable  to  see  what  condition  Comanche 
Dick  was  in.  On  the  way  there  Adsum  was  close  at  her 
side  trying  to  thrust  his  nose  into  her  hand,  seeming  to 
know  that  she  was  in  trouble.  When  she  reached  the 
stable  the  sight  of  the  horse,  standing  dumb  and  un- 
knowing in  his  stall,  was  more  than  the  girl  could  bear. 
She  leaned  against  the  side  of  the  stall  and  hid  her  face 
in  her  hands,  but  only  for  a  moment  or  two.  Suddenly 


124  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

dashing  away  the  tears,  she  told  herself  that  this  was  no 
time  to  break  down  and  cry  ;  she  must  be  brave  and 
composed  for  her  mother's  sake ;  this  was  only  the 
beginning,  perhaps,  of  long  weeks  ahead,  of  suffering 
days  and  worse  nights,  and  she  must  not  add  to  her 
mother's  grief  by  giving  way  now.  So  she  went  back  to 
the  house. 

The  time  dragged  slowly.  In  a  day  or  two  there  was 
a  slight  change,  a  faint  rallying.  Gilbert  regained  the 
partial  use  of  one  side,  and  it  became  a  certainty  that  for 
a  time  his  mind  was  unclouded  ;  but  speech  did  not 
return,  and  the  doctor  said  he  might  live  in  this  condition 
for  weeks,  but  there  would  be  no  further  rallying ; 
medical  aid  had  done  all  it  could  do,  and  it  was  merely 
a  question  of  time.  Dorothea  had  found  in  Gilbert's 
pocket  a  memorandum  of  the  sale  of  the  horses,  and  a 
roll  of  money  amounting  to  what  seemed  a  fair  price. 
This  she  carefully  locked  away  until  the  first  day  of  the 
New  Year  dawned  ;  then  she  brought  it  out,  and  eagerly 
paid  the  half-year's  interest  on  the  mortgage,  and  was 
impatient,  even  irritable  for  the  first  time  when  she 
found  that  she  could  not  pay  the  whole  interest  for  the 
year  in  a  lump,  but  must  wait  until  the  next  installment 
fell  due.  So  the  rest  was  locked  away  until  Seventh 
Month  should  come  round. 

Day  after  day  passed  ;  there  was  no  change,  and  the 
long  vigil  continued.  -  Sometimes,  from  the  imploring 
look  in  the  sick  man's  eyes,  as  he  followed  their  every 


"  I   WALK  ALONE."  12$ 

movement,  they  were  sure  that  there  was  something 
weighing  upon  his  mind  that  he  wished  to  say,  but  there 
was  no  articulation  ;  and  many  were  the  devices  they 
employed  to  help  him  reveal  it,  but  all  in  vain  ;  the 
look  would  fade,  to  be  followed  by  a  heavy  stupor.  So 
First  and  Second  Months  passed,  and  towards  the  end  of 
March  it  was  evident  that  the  end  was  near.  Gilbert 
had  been  for  several  days  entirely  comatose.  The  doctor 
said  he  would  probably  never  have  any  sign  of  returning 
consciousness  ;  nor  did  he.  At  the  close  of  a  sunshiny 
day,  when  the  grass  was  beginning  to  spring  up  again  in 
green  spots,  and  the  first  robins  had  appeared  in  the  lane, 
Gilbert  died. 

There  was  no  moan  nor  giving  way  to  grief  in  the 
household.  Dorothea  expressed  a  wish  that  there  should 
be  no  meeting  held  at  Airlie,  nor  at  the  Meeting-House. 
The  Friends  might  meet  at  the  grave  ;  those  who  wished 
to  make  remarks  might  do  so.  She  had  borne  herself 
with  almost  rigid  composure,  and  when  the  end  came 
there  was  no  outward  breaking  down.  Her  face  had 
grown  strangely  old  and  wan  ;  her  step  was  languid  and 
feeble  ;  those  who  saw  her  shook  their  heads  and  said 
they  had  never  seen  such  a  stricken-looking  woman. 
And  when  the  morning  of  the  burial  came  it  was  found 
that  Dorothea  could  not  leave  her  bed.  Then  it  was 
that  Robin  realized  that  there  was  no  one  left  to  her  ;  not 
one  near  relative  in  all  the  world  to  go  with  her  to  her 
father's  grave  ;  no  arm  to  lean  upon.  Of  all  the  distant 


126  GILBERT   ELGAR's   SON. 

cousins  and  connections  in  the  neighborhood,  there  was 
not  one  face  she  felt  that  she  could  bear  near  her  in  this 
ordeal.  Deborah  told  her  she  could  not  go  alone  ;  it 
would  not  be  "meet  "  for  her  to  do  so. 

"  Then  thee  go  with  me,  Cousin  Deborah  ?  " 

"  No,  child,  I  dare  not  leave  thy  mother.  Why  not 
have  Captain  Esten  ?  he  was  thy  father's  good  friend." 

"  No  !  no  !  not  Captain  Esten.  Ask  Evan  Massie  to 
go  with  me." 

The  Estens  and  a  few  of  the  near  friends  were 
gathered  in  the  sitting-room,  with  Robin  among  them, 
wearing  no  outward  badge  of  mourning.  Harmony  had 
brought  some  white  buds  from  The  Hatch  early  that 
morning,  and  Robin  laid  one  of  them  in  her  father's  cold 
fingers.  A  few  hours  later,  when  she  took  her  last  look 
at  the  loved  face,  the  bud  in  his  hand  had  opened  into  a 
full-blown  rose,  and  it  seemed  to  the  girl  that  it  was  a 
promise,  direct  from  Heaven,  of  her  father's  ever-continu- 
ing love  and  watchfulness  over  her,  and  the  first  thought 
of  comfort  stole  into  her  heart.  The  little  procession  left 
Airlie.  The  old  family  carriage,  with  Robin  and  Evan, 
and  driven  once  more  by  Kane,  came  first  after  the  dead. 
Then  came  the  Estens  and  some  few  of  the  distant 
cousins  and  connections.  The  sun  shone  out  bright  and 
warm  as  they  slowly  wound  their  way  toward  the  Meet- 
ing-House.  They  passed  the  different  familiar  places 
along  the  road,  and  at  every  gate  stood  a  carriage  ready 
to  follow  Gilbert  Elgar  to  his  last  resting-place  under  the 
shade  of  old  Charlie  Forest. 


"  I   WALK   ALONE."  I2/ 

When  they  reached  the  Meeting-House  there  was  a 
large  gathering  of  Friends  waiting  in  the  woods  to  pay 
their  last  tribute  of  respect.  Gilbert  was  carried  to  the 
chosen  spot,  his  daughter  walking  firmly  just  behind,  and 
the  vast  gathering  closed  in  rapidly  around  them.  There 
was  a  halt,  and  with  bowed  heads  the  silent  communion 
of  the  Friends  was  held.  The  sun  poured  down  upon 
them  through  the  leafless  trees,  and  upon  Robin  standing 
apart  and  alone,  with  clasped  hands,  gazing,  tearless,  into 
the  open  grave.  A  faint,  murmuring  sound  came  from 
the  very  heart  of  the  crowd,  which,  at  the  sound,  fell 
back  a  little  and  disclosed  the  speaker,  a  woman  in  plain 
bonnet  and  dress,  who  began  in  a  sweet,  low  voice  : 

"  Time,  which  leads  on  for  us  its  successive  changes, 
bringing  as  it  does  to  us  so  much  continual  experience 
of  Earth's  mutability,  what  will  it  do  for  thee  that  lies 
dead  before  us  ?  We  stand  at  this  grave  and  know  with 
anguish  that  the  form,  once  animated  by  his  bright  spirit, 
is  already  brought  into  close  contact  with  the  clay,  and 
we  mourn  because  the  loved  one  is  wrapped  so  closely 
in  the  bosom  of  its  mother  Earth.  It  is  the  inexorable 
decree,  speaking  to  us  in  the  most  forcible  of  all  lan- 
guage, saying  that  he  whom  we  loved  is  not  here.  Earth 
holds  his  clay  tenement,  but  there  is  now  an  utter  chasm 
between  it  and  him.  The  separation  is  complete  and  total ; 
the  separation  in  our  minds  and  hearts  should  be  as  ab- 
solute. But  what  does  time  bring  to  the  soul,  to  the 
spirit  that  has  left  us  ?  Ah  !  friends,  no  light  cometh  to 
explore  the  way  but  faith,  the  holiest,  highest  faith  ;  look- 


128  GILBERT  ELGAR*S  SON. 

ing  neither  on  the  right  hand,  where  the  imagination  of 
man  dreams  finite  dreams  of  infinite  felicity,  nor  on  the 
left,  where  doubt  opens  its  caverns  of  despair.  She  rises 
up  and  up,  and  leaves  him  in  the  bosom  of  his  Father 
and  his  God."  There  was  a  pause  ;  then  in  a  tremulous 
voice  the  speaker  added :  "  I  would  quote  a  line  from  an 
ancient  Hebrew  dirge  : 

'  Mourn  for  the  mourner,  not  for  the  dead ; 
He  is  at  rest,  but  we  in  tears.' " 

Robin  had  bowed  her  head  at  the  opening  words. 
She  knew  the  voice  ;  it  was  that  of  Friend  Rush,  who 
had  spoken  in  Meeting,  years  ago,  when  she  was  a  little 
girl  and  had  misbehaved  on  First-Day.  The  whole 
scene  rushed  back  upon  her  mind  as  distinctly  as  if  it 
were  only  yesterday  and  she  were  a  little  girl  again,  be- 
ing soothed  in  her  father's  strong  arms  after  her  mother's 
rebuke.  And  those  strong  arms  were  folded  now  across 
his  breast,  stiff  and  cold,  and  nevermore  would  enfold 
her  as  they  had  loved  to  do.  And  as  a  line  from  Via 
Solitaria  came  to  her  mind,  she  was  roused  from  her 
thoughts  by  a  slight  stir  in  the  crowd,  and  she  knew  that 
the  last  offices  to  the  dead  were  about  to  be  performed 
by  kind  and  loving  friends.  Several  young  farmers 
stepped  forth,  and  as  soon  as  the  remains  were  lowered, 
with  long-handled  shovels  which  made  no  sound  as  the 
heavy  earth  fell  upon  the  bosom  of  the  dead,  they  filled 
in  the  grave.  In  a  few  moments  their  places  were  taken 


"  I   WALK   ALONE."  1 29 

by  others,  each  stepping  out  from  the  crowd  and  taking 
the  long  handle  from  the  hand  that  relinquished  it  in 
utter  quiet.  Jared,  Captain  Esten,  and  even  Thaddy 
Watkins,  each  bore  his  share  in  turn,  and  Kane,  who 
stood  close  behind  his  young  mistress,  made  a  movement 
as  if  to  take  his  share  in  closing  up  the  grave  of  his  loved 
"  Mister  Gilbert,"  but  some  one  else  stepped  forward,  and 
his  timid,  half-involuntary  movement  was  not  noticed. 
In  a  few  moments  all  was  done. 

Not  till  the  grave  rose  high  above  the  turf  did  the 
caretaker  step  forward  and  take  the  shovel  from  the  last 
kiftdly  hand.  Then  the  crowd  turned,  making  a  passage- 
way for  Robin,  who  walked  quickly,  with  head  bowed 
upon  her  breast,  to  the  carriage,  utterly  forgetting  the 
presence  of  Evan,  who  hurried  after  her.  And  soon  the 
Meeting- House  and  the  burial-ground,  with  its  new 
grave,  were  left  in  silence. 

A  few  days  later,  at  the  close  of  the  usual  Fourth- 
Day  Meeting,  the  heavy  wooden  partition  was  closed 
between  the  two  halves  of  the  Meeting-House,  and  the 
Preparative  Meeting,  which  at  stated  times  followed, 
was  about  to  be  held.  There  were  gathered  on  the 
women's  side  some  twenty  women  or  more,  with  only 
a  faint  sprinkling  of  the  plain  bonnet  and  dress.  The 
sheet-iron  stove  was  giving  out  a  genial  warmth,  which 
was  most  pleasant,  for  the  early  April  morning  was 
chilly  and  raw.  There  was  a  gravity  about  the  Meeting 
rather  more  noticeable  than  usual,  and  an  expectancy 


130  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

in  the  faces  of  some  of  the  younger  women.  Deborah 
was  present,  sitting  far  back  upon  one  of  the  benches  in 
the  corner.  After  a  slight  pause,  some  one  rose  and 
read  out  the  first  query  : 

"  Are  all  meetings  for  Worship  and  Discipline  duly 
attended  ?  Do  Friends  avoid  unbecoming  behavior 
therein  ?  and  is  the  hour  of  meeting  observed  ? "  This 
query  being  received  with  no  unfavorable  answer,  the 
same  speaker  proceeded  to  read  the  second  and  ninth 
queries,  chosen  from  the  table  of  twelve,  and  read  in 
nearly  every  Preparative  and  Monthly  Meeting.  These 
in  turn  having  been  favorably  answered,  there  was  a 
slight  pause.  Then  it  was  in  order  for  any  one  who 
chose  to  bring  up  a  new  question  or  to  make  remarks. 
After  a  pause  a  tall  woman,  with  rather  a  stern  face  and 
forbidding  manner,  rose  and  said  decidedly  : 

"  I  have  long  felt  it  my  duty  to  bring  before  this 
Meeting  a  matter  that  has  been  troubling  me  for  some 
time,  and  upon  speaking  of  it  to  one  or  two  others  of  our 
members  I  find  I  am  not  alone.  There  is  a  growing 
lightness,  confusion  and  want  of  solemnity  in  the  way  of 
conducting  burials  among  the  Friends  of  late  that  I  bear 
a  strong  testimony  against,  and  I  would  like  that  this 
Meeting  duly  consider  it  and  endeavor  to  bring  about  a 
change  more  becoming  our  Christian  profession." 

Deborah  shifted  her  position  uneasily  on  her  bench  in 
the  corner ;  then  a  gentle-faced  elderly  Friend  in  plain 
dress  rose  and  asked  : 


"  I   WALK  ALONE."  131 

"  Will  the  Friend  who  has  just  spoken  particularize  a 
little  more  fully,  in  what  way  and  at  what  time  she  has 
noticed  this  change  in  our  burials  ? " 

"  I  mean,"  replied  the  first  speaker,  "that  at  Gilbert 
Elgar's  funeral  last  week  there  was  much  confusion, 
much  loud  talking,  and,  more  than  all,  neither  at  the 
house  nor  at  the  Meeting-House  here,  was  any  solemn 
observance  held.  Many  of  the  Friends,  myself  among 
them,  assembled  here  in  the  Meeting-House  to  await  the 
funeral,  and  were  surprised  to  find  it  proceed  directly  to 
the  grave,  during  which  removal  there  was  much  talking 
and  confusion  outside.  And  I  do  not  think  it  meet  that 
the  bereaved  daughter  should  have  had  no  relative  with 
her  at  the  grave." 

And  as  she  closed  her  remarks  and  sat  down,  a  slight 
movement  took  place  among  the  rest.  Deborah  rose 
from  the  corner  bench.  With  a  slight  flush  on  either 
cheek,  a  carefully-subdued  manner  and  a  well-modulated 
voice  she  began  : 

"  I  wish  to  explain  one  or  two  things  to  the  Friend 
who  has  just  laid  her  grievances  before  this  Meeting.  It 
was  by  my  cousin  Dorothea  Elgar's  distinctly-expressed 
wish  that  there  was  no  meeting  held  either  in  this  Meet- 
ing-House or  at  Airlie.  She  felt  that  should  the  Friends 
assemble  at  the  house  she  could  not  deny  them  the 
privilege  of  looking  upon  her  husband's  face,  and  that 
face,  dear  friends,  was  absolutely  unrecognizable  "  ;  and 
here  Deborah,  all  the  old  enmity  swallowed  up  and  for- 


132  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

gotten,  wiped  away  the  tears  at  the  memory  of  Gilbert's 
face  as  she  had  seen  it  last.  "Furthermore,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  the  Friend  has  forgotten  that  there  is  no  per- 
son bearing  a  near  relationship  to  the  bereaved  daughter 
save  her  own  mother,  who  was  too  ill  to  leave  her  bed  ; 
her  second  cousin,  Richard  Elgar,  not  available  on  that 
occasion  Because  of  absence  in  Europe  ;  and  myself,  who, 
as  many  of  you  will  remember,  could  not  leave  the 
stricken  wife,  ill  in  an  absolutely  deserted  home.  And 
finally,  as  to  the  rest,  surely  the  Friend  cannot  mean  to 
characterize  the  beautiful  and  appropriate  remarks  made 
at  the  grave  by  Friend  Rush  as  '  loud  talking,'  for  there 
was  no  other  sound  save  her  gentle  voice." 

Deborah  sat  down  ;  there  was  another  pause.  Then 
the  opposing  Friend  rose,  a  trifle  less  assured  in  manner, 
and  said  in  an  injured  tone  : 

"  Friend  Deborah's  remarks  are  very  timely,  though 
perhaps  her  last  remark  would  have  been  in  better  taste 
if  left  unsaid.  When  I  alluded  to  loud  talking  and  con- 
fusion I  meant  among  those  who  were  hitching  their 
horses  ;  it  disturbed  and  jarred  upon  the  solemn  occa- 
sion. If  Dorothea  Elgar  expressly  wished  for  no  meet- 
ing to  be  held,  I  can  only  deplore  the  departure  from  our 
usual  form,  and  I  beg  that  a  committee  be  appointed  to 
look  into  the  matter  for  future  occasions." 

"  I  believe,"  remarked  the  gentle-faced  Friend  who  had 
risen  once  before,  "  that  our  Discipline  only  asks  in  cases 
of  funerals  that  there  shall  be  a  suitable  pause  before  and 


"  I   WALK   ALONE."  133 

after  interment,  and  this  was  certainly  observed  in  the 
case  of  Friend  Elgar's  funeral.  The  Book  of  Discipline 
does  not  specify  that  there  shall  be  a  meeting  in  the 
Meeting-House  or  anywhere  else,  unless  so  desired  by 
the  family." 

There  seemed  to  be  no  dissent  from  this  statement, 
and  after  waiting  a  few  moments  for  further  remarks, 
which  were  not  forthcoming,  the  discussion  was  consid- 
ered closed.  It  was  not  thought  necessary  to  appoint  a 
committee  to  look  into  the  matter,  and  with  one  impulse 
the  Meeting  dissolved,  and  with  little  delay  the  members 
dispersed  to  their  respective  homes.  As  Deborah  clam- 
bered into  the  rockaway  and  jerked  the  lines  across  the 
back  of  the  old  white  horse,  she  said  aloud  to  herself : 

"  I  'm  mighty  glad  I  was  on  the  spot  to  answer  that 
fault-finding  Friend.  As  if  Robin  would  n't  have  had  a 
near  relative  with  her  at  the  grave,  if  the  poor,  solitary 
child  had  one  in  all  the  world  that  was  this  side  of 
Jericho.  Get  up  there,  John  !  "  and  she  jerked  John 
into  a  trot,  and  rattled  away  home. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE    NEW    MASTER    OF    AIRLIE. 

'"THE  first  few  days  following  Gilbert's  funeral  were 
spent  by  Robin  in  wandering  aimlessly  and  rest- 
lessly about  the  place.  She  saw  her  father's  face  wher- 
ever she  went ;  not  as  it  had  looked  for  the  last  three 
months,  but  as  it  used  to  look  years  ago  when  she  was  a 
child  :  bright,  cheery  and  with  the  merry  twinkle  in  the 
eyes.  She  never  could  think  of  the  face  of  the  sick 
man  ;  it  was  not  her  father's  face,  she  said  to  herself. 

Harmony  had  come  to  spend  a  few  days  with  her,  and 
Deborah  had  spent  nearly  all  of  her  time  at  Airlie  ;  but 
the  girl  felt  an  impatience  to  be  rid  of  everybody,  to  have 
her  grief  and  her  loneliness  to  herself.  Only  when  she 
entered  the  room  where  her  mother  lay,  utterly  spent,  did 
she  rouse  herself,  smile  brightly,  and  affect  a  cheerfulness 
she  was  far  from  feeling.  There  seemed  to  be  nothing 
seriously  the  matter  with  Dorothea,  only  a  great  weak- 
ness and  languor  had  taken  possession  of  her  which  she 
was  unable  to  shake  off.  But  as  the  days  went  by  she 
left  her  bed  for  a  chair,  and  when  it  was  warm  enough 


THE   NEW   MASTER   OF  AIRLIE.  13$ 

she  would  be  wheeled  on  the  porch  and  sit  for  hours  in 
the  sheltered  corner,  where  Gilbert  had  sat  for  so  many 
years.  One  morning,  when  it  was  too  cool  for  Dorothea 
to  be  out-of-doors,  Kane  came  dragging  himself  up  to  the 
house,  looking  for  "  Miss  Dorothy."  Robin  was  leaning 
on  the  porch  railing,  gazing  dreamily  and  absently  down 
the  lane.  The  dogs  were  at  her  feet.  She  turned  her 
eyes  mechanically  on  Kane  and  asked  : 

"  What  is  it,  Kane  ?  do  you  want  any  thing  ?  " 
"  This  's  what  I  wan' t'  know,  Miss  Rob  ;  who  's  goin' 
to  give  the  men  they  orders  ?     Nary  word  's  been  spoke 
to  'em  'bout  corn-plantin',  an'  it  's  nigh  onto  time  the 
corn  was  down  in  the  groun'." 

The  girl  stared  at  Kane  in  a  perplexed  way,  as  if  she 
scarce  understood  him,  until  he  said,  entreatingly  : 
"  'Deed,  Miss  Rob,  don'  look  that-a-way." 
She  stood  immovable.  An  awakening  look  began  to 
creep  into  her  face.  She  had  forgotten  every  thing  :  that 
life  must  go  on,  that  they  must  live,  that  there  was  no 
one  left  but  herself,  that  debt  and  almost  homelessness 
stared  them  in  the  face.  She  had  spent  the  days  since 
her  father's  death  in  selfish  grief  ;  she  had  forgotten 
what  lay  before  her.  She  remembered  her  father's  words 
to  her  years  ago  when  she  was  a  little  girl.  He  had 
named  her  Robin  because  she  was  his  little  son,  and  she 
remembered  her  childish  promise  to  be  both  son  and 
daughter  ;  and  she  remembered  how,  during  all  the  years 
of  her  education,  she  had  never  really  lost  sight  of  that 


136  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

idea.  She  recalled  the  night  in  the  autumn  when  her 
mother  had  said  :  "  Thee  is  my  dependence,  my  strong 
right  arm  "  ;  and  her  reply  :  "  I  will  never  fail  thee  and 
father."  The  time  had  come  at  last ;  she  must  be  up 
and  doing.  She  awoke  to  life  and  action.  She  glanced 
all  about  her,  over  the  fields,  which  lay  peacefully  before 
her,  as  if  to  take  in  the  magnitude  of  the  task.  She 
turned  at  last  to  Kane,  and  said,  with  decision  : 

"  Kane,  I  will  tell  the  men  about  corn-planting  ;  you 
will  take  your  orders  from  me  in  future.  Tell  Bill  and 
Saunders  I  wish  to  see  them  immediately.  You  get  on 
Comanche  and  come  with  me  over  the  farm.  I  must  lose 
no  time  in  pushing  the  spring  work,  which  ought  to  be 
well  under  way  by  this  time." 

Kane  stood  propped  by  his  stout  stick  and  looked  at 
her  in  open-eyed  wonder,  as  if  he  in  turn  had  not  under- 
stood. At  last  he  gasped  : 

"  What  you  mean  to  do,  Miss  Rob  ?  " 

"  I  mean  to  go  to  work,  Kane." 

"  You  mean  you  '11  farm  this  yere  place  you'self  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course  ;  who  else  is  there  to  do  it  ?  I  have 
known  in  a  dim  way  ever  since  I  can  remember  that  I  'd 
have  it  to  do  some  day,  but  I  Ve  been  in  a  stupid  dream, 
and  I  had  forgotten  the  time  had  come." 

"  But,  Miss  Rob,  you  's  only  a  woman  ;  what  can  you 
do?" 

"  I  am  going  to  work  just  as  you  and  Bill  and  Saunders 
do,  or  as  any  farmer  would  have  to  do  ;  and  I  am  going  to 


THE   NEW   MASTER   OF  AIRLIE.  137 

use  youth,  strength,  and  brains  to  do  it  with,  for  I  have 
these,  if  I  am  a  woman  "  ;  and  a  resolute,  undaunted 
expression  flashed  in  her  eyes.  She  continued  earnestly  : 
"  I  ought  to  have  taken  hold  of  things  earlier.  Has  any 
thing  been  done  yet,  Kane  ?  Have  the  oats  been  sown 
in  the  old  cornfield  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss,  they  's  down  in  the  groun'.  Bill  's  jes' 
got  'em  done,  an*  Saunders  an'  me  's  puttin'  early  pota- 
toes in  the  patch  now,  and  Cap'n  Essen  sont  over  his 
man  an'  team  las'  week  an'  they 's  done  some  ploughin'." 

The  tears  sprang  to  Robin's  eyes  at  the  kind,  thought- 
ful help  from  Captain  Esten  ;  then  she  asked  : 

"  What  about  the  vegetable  garden  ?  " 

"  Well,  that  's  done  started.  You  see,  Miss,  all  the 
weeks  Mr.  Gilbert  was  so  poorly-like  I  jes'  wen'  on  an' 
done  all  o'  myself,  without  worryin'  any  one  askin'.  I 's 
been  so  long  on  the  place  that  I  don'  need  much  tellin' ; 
so  Bill,  and  me,  an'  Saunders,  we  's  done  all  we  knew 
how  ;  but  now  the  spring  work  's  comin'  on,  I  thought  I 
mought  as  well  come  an'  fin'  out  *bout  things." 

The  girl  looked  into  Kane's  honest,  faithful  face,  and 
said  feelingly  : 

"  I  don't  know  what  we  should  do  without  you,  Kane. 
Let  me  see,  this  is  nearly  the  middle  of  April,  and  the 
corn  must  be  in  the  ground  by  the  tenth  of  May.  You 
say  the  ploughing  is  done  ?  " 

"  No,  Miss,  its  nowise  all  done.  We  's  ploughed  right 
smart,  but  there  's  consid'able  to  do  yet." 


138  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

"  Well,  I  will  come  and  see  for  myself.  Go  saddle 
Comanche  and  be  ready  to  go  with  me  over  the  farm." 

"  'Deed,  honey,  I  can  walk  'long  side  o'  you  right 
well." 

"  No,  Kane,  we  shall  be  gone  some  time,  and  you  shall 
not  drag  yourself  around  with  me.  You  ride,  and  we  '11 
look  at  every  thing.  But  not  a  word  to  mother  till  I 
have  a  chance  to  make  my  plans  and  arrangements. 
Kane,  you  will  have  to  keep  to  your  work  in  the  dairy 
and  in  the  garden,  and  with  Bill  and  Saunders  we  can 
manage  till  harvest ;  then  I  shall  go  into  the  fields  my- 
self." 

"  Oh  Lord,  Miss  Rob,  no  use  in  you  tryin'  that  ;  you 
can't  reap  nor  sow." 

"We  will  see,  Kane."  A  faint  smile  spread  over  her 
face  at  Kane's  distressed  look ;  but  she  knew  she 
would  have  a  staunch  support  in  him  ;  when  he  was  once 
reconciled  to  the  new  order  of  things,  when  he  saw  she 
was  in  earnest,  he  would  uphold  all  her  undertakings. 

The  next  few  days  Robin  was  completely  absorbed. 
She  had  a  long  talk  with  Deborah,  who  after  listening  to 
the  unfolding  of  the  plan  said  : 

"  Is  there  no  other  way  out  of  the  difficulty,  child  ? 
does  thee  realize  the  long  years  of  drudgery  it  means  to 
thee  ? " 

"  Yes,  Cousin  Deborah,  but  it  is  the  only  way,  unless 
we  sell  Airlie  outright.  Thee  knows  that  should  we 
follow  the  usual  plan  and  get  some  one  to  farm  for  us  on 


THE   NEW   MASTER   OF  AIRLIE.  139 

shares,  mother  and  I  would  have  no  say  in  the  manage- 
ment of  things,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  it  would  be 
practically  financial  suicide." 

"  Child,  where  did  thee  get  thy  head  ?" 

"What  little  I  have  comes  from  mother.  She  has 
managed  every  thing  on  this  place  for  years  ;  no  one 
knows  it  so  well  as  I." 

Robin  next  talked  with  Evan  Massie,  who  listened 
attentively  ;  then  he  said  heartily  and  encouragingly  : 

"  I  believe  thee  can  do  it ;  thee  has  the  stuff  in  thee. 
Of  course  it  will  be  a  hard  rub,  but  it  is  by  no  means  an 
impracticable  plan.  If  I  only  knew  a  turnip  from  a 
cabbage  I  'd  give  over  books  and  help  thee." 

After  this  Robin  walked  over  every  acre  of  the 
farm  and  inspected  every  foot  of  ground.  Nothing 
escaped  her  keen,  young  eyes.  She  spent  a  couple  of 
days  in  going  over  her  father's  papers  and  accounts, 
scanning  eagerly  every  scrap  of  writing,  and  making 
many  calculations.  At  the  end  of  a  few  days  she  had 
mastered  the  situation  and  had  looked  it  squarely  in  the 
face.  The  only  remaining  thing  was  to  break  it  to  her 
mother.  Dorothea  had  for  several  days  observed  that 
Robin  was  unusually  absorbed,  and  seeing  her  with 
pencil  and  paper  one  morning  she  asked  languidly  : 

"  Daughter,  what  is  thee  so  interested  in  ?  " 

"  Mother,  I  've  been  going  over  our  affairs,  and  if  thee 
is  able  I  think  we  'd  better  talk  things  over." 

"  Yes,  my  child,  I  Ve  been  trying  every  day  to  gather 


140  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

courage  to  face  things,  and  in  my  mind  I  come  back  to 
the  one  terrible  solution,  that  our  home  will  have  to  pass 
into  other  hands.  We  must  sell  Airlie." 

"  Never,  mother,  never  !  " 

The  energy  of  the  words  and  the  spirit  which  flashed 
from  her  daughter's  eyes  struck  Dorothea.  She  said 
eagerly,  with  something  of  hope  in  her  voice  : 

"  Thee  has  a  plan,  let  me  hear  it." 

"  Yes,  mother  ;  and  will  thee  promise  not  to  interrupt 
till  I  make  a  complete  statement  ? "  Dorothea  nodded 
assent  : 

"We  have  five  hundred  acres,  with  a  mortgage  of 
twelve  thousand  dollars,  and  outstanding  debts  besides 
amounting  to  fifteen  or  sixteen  hundred  dollars.  I  pro- 
pose to  sell  two  hundred  acres  of  land  outright,  the  land 
that  lies  behind  the  orchard,  taking  in  part  of  the  woods 
beyond  the  far  cornfield.  This  land  ought  to  sell  at 
forty  dollars  an  acre  at  the  lowest,  or  say  forty-five 
dollars.  That  would  give  us  to  start  with  eight  thousand 
dollars,  perhaps  nine  thousand.  I  will  keep  out  five  or 
six  hundred  dollars  of  it,  paying  the  rest  over  to  the 
holders  of  the  mortgage  ;  they  of  course  will  be  willing 
to  release  the  land  sold.  Then  I  propose  to  rent  out 
one  hundred  acres,  for  the  sake  of  getting  it  cultivated 
and  for  what  share  of  the  crops  we  can  get  out  of  it. 
Then,  mother,  there  will  be  left  two  hundred  acres, 
which  I  mean  to  farm  in  person.  I  mean  to  use  some  of 
the  money  that  I  take  out  of  the  sale  of  the  land  to  buy 


THE   NEW    MASTER   OK   AIRLIE.  141 

fertilizers,  keeping  enough  to  pay  a  year's  interest  on  the 
remainder  of  the  mortgage  and  the  other  debts.  In  the 
autumn  I  want  to  buy  some  fresh  cows  and  bring  up  the 
dairy,  so  that  in  the  winter  and  spring  we  can  supply 
butter  for  market.  And  in  the  years  to  come,  mother, 
Airlie  will  be  free.  It  is  the  only  plan  that  will  keep 
the  old  home." 

Robin  pressed  her  hands  together  tightly  and  gazed 
anxiously  at  her  mother.  Dorothea  sat  with  her  head 
resting  on  the  back  of  her  chair.  Her  eyes  were  closed  ; 
the  tears  crept  slowly  from  under  the  lids  and  over  her 
wan  face  ;  her  hands  were  clasped  in  her  lap,  she  did 
not  speak.  Robin  knelt  softly  at  her  side,  put  her  arms 
about  her,  and  said  : 

"What  is  it,  mother  dear?  tell  me,  does  thee  object 
to  the  plan  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my  child  !  my  child  ! "  was  all  she  could  say 
for  a  moment ;  then  growing  calmer  she  said  :  "  The 
plan  is  noble,  but  I  cannot  see  my  child,  my  little 
Robin,  working  her  youth  away  in  sacrifice." 

Robin  sprang  to  her  feet,  exclaiming  passionately  : 

"  Look  at  me,  mother.  Ever  since  the  day  I  put 
away  my  dolls  and  the  old  yellow  spelling-book,  I  have 
told  myself  that  I  had  a  son's  place  to  fill,  and  that  it 
would  be  a  proud  day  to  me  when  thee  and  father  would 
lean  upon  me,  and  I  would  be  taking  care  of  thee  and  of 
every  thing  at  Airlie.  Mother,  that  day  has  come,  and  I 
take  my  place  by  right.  Thee  has  cared  for  me  all  the 


142  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

days  of  thy  life  ;  I  will  work  for  thee  the  rest  of 
mine." 

A  long  silence  fell.     Finally  Dorothea  spoke  : 

"  I  will  not  oppose  thee,  my  child  ;  thee  shall  try  thy 
plan,  and  I  thank  God  reverently  that  I  have  such  a  son 
to  lean  upon."  After  a  moment  Dorothea  continued  in 
a  resolute  tone  :  "  I  only  fear  that  such  work  will  prove 
impossible  to  thee ;  thee  has  had  no  experience ;  therefore 
I  must  make  one  condition,  and  one  only :  thee  must  find 
some  intelligent,  thoroughly-respectable  white  man,  one 
who  has  had  practical  experience  on  a  farm,  who  will 
come  here,  for  hire,  of  course,  who  will  do  the  many 
things  thee  cannot  do  ;  some  one  who  will  be  in  part 
overseer,  do,  in  other  words,  what  Kane  is  unable  to  do 
nowadays.  Thee  will  need  another  farm  hand  anyway, 
and"  thee  must  choose  some  one  who  can  live  in  the 
house  with  us." 

"  Mother,  where  can  we  find  such  a  man  ?  I  would 
much  rather  have  only  the  ordinary  hands  to  deal  with, 
and  Kane  would  be  sufficient  to  advise.  Think  of  all 
the  years  that  he  has  farmed  the  land." 

"  True,  my  child,  but  since  Kane  has  been  crippled  I 
have  never  relied  so  much  on  his  judgment.  He  cannot 
get  about,  nor  cope  with  the  necessities  as  they  arise,  as 
a  man  can  who  has  the  full  use  of  his  limbs.  Thee  has 
had  absolutely  no  practical  experience,  therefore  thee 
must  try  to  find  some  one  who  has  practical  knowledge 
of  farming." 


THE   NEW    MASTER   OF  AIRLIE.  143 

"  There  is  no  one  in  this  neighborhood  who  would 
come  in  the  way  thee  means,  and  I  will  never  consent  to 
take  any  one  on  shares." 

"  I  think  of  one  person  who  might  be  willing  to  come." 

"  Who,  mother  ? " 

"  Jared  Comly." 

"  I  would  never  think  of  proposing  such  a  thing  to 
him,  mother,  to  come  here  as  an  ordinary  laborer  ;  he 
would  feel  it  almost  an  insult." 

"  It  is  no  insult,  daughter  ;  thee  mistakes  a  little 
when  thee  thinks  there  is  no  dignity  in  common  labor. 
No  young  farmer  starting  out  but  has  to  work  like  a 
common  laborer.  Thee  proposes  to  work  thyself,  side 
by  side  with  thy  men.  Is  it  any  more  of  an  insult  for 
Jared  than  for  thee  ?  " 

"  Only  this  difference,  mother  ;  I  should  be  working 
for  my  own." 

"Well,  it  only  struck  me  that  Jared  has  been  back 
from  the  West  since  last  August  and  doing  nothing.  The 
land  about  his  own  home  is  worked  by  his  elder  brother, 
so  there  is  nothing  for  him  to  do  there.  He  has  some 
little  means,  but  not  enough  to  buy  a  farm  of  his  own  ; 
he  is  looking  for  work,  and  I  thought  if  thee  offered 
him  higher  wages  than  the  usual  farm  hand  gets  and  his 
home  here  with  us,  it  would  be  a  pleasant  arrangement. 
I  should  not  be  so  anxious  about  thee  all  the  time.  In 
another  year  thee  may  be  in  a  position  to  make  it  worth 
while  for  him  to  remain  indefinitely  with  us." 


144  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

These  concluding  words  of  Dorothea's,  innocent  as 
they  were,  sent  a  cold  chill  over  the  girl.  She  glanced 
quickly  at  her  mother,  but  there  was  perfect  unsuspicion 
in  her  face.  She  asked  : 

"  In  what  way  might  I  make  it  worth  while  for  him  to 
stay  ? 

"Why,  thee  might  offer  him  a  share  in  the  profits 
of  the  dairy,  if  it  should  succeed."  Robin  breathed 
freely. 

"  I  will  think  of  it,  mother,  but  I  would  rather  have 
any  one  here  than  Jared  Comly.  Thee  knows  it  is 
believed  that  he  is  hard  to  get  along  with.  He  is  rest- 
less and  never  stays  long  anywhere." 

"  Yes,  I  have  heard  so,  but  I  have  always  liked  Jared 
and  I  think  he  is  underestimated."  Nothing  further  was 
said  on  the  subject. 

In  a  few  days  the  plans  were  fully  matured.  As  soon 
as  the  promise  of  the  release  of  the  land  was  obtained,  a 
notice  was  posted  up  in  the  village  of  Airlie  and  the 
neighboring  post-offices,  to  the  effect  that  two  hundred 
acres,  partly  in  woodland  and  partly  in  cleared  land, 
would  be  offered  for  sale  at  Airlie  on  such  and  such 
a  day,  and  also  that  one  hundred  acres  adjoining  the  vil- 
lage of  Airlie  were  offered  for  rent.  This  created  a  great 
sensation  in  the  neighborhood.  People  shook  their  heads; 
they  knew  it  would  have  to  come.  They  wondered  what 
was  to  be  done  with  the  rest  of  the  farm,  if  it  too  would 
be  sold  in  time,  and  who  would  buy  it ;  more  than  that, 


THE   NEW   MASTER   OF  AIRLIE.  145 

what  would  become  of  the  two  helpless  women,  burdened 
with  debt  and  practically  homeless  ?  Perhaps  they  would 
leave  the  neighborhood  entirely^  perhaps  Dick  Elgar 
would  help  them  out,  he  was  rich  enough  to  do  it.  Then 
they  told  each  other  what  a  pity  it  was  there  was  no  son 
to  come  to  the  rescue.  They  guessed  that  Dorothea 
would  now  see  the  folly  of  having  given  her  daughter  so 
much  useless  book-learning  ;  if  she  had  only  brought  her 
up  sensibly  like  other  girls,  to  brew  and  bake,  sew  and 
mend,  she  might  have  been  depended  on  in  this  hour  of 
need,  and  be  of  some  comfort  to  her  mother  ;  as  it  was, 
who  would  feel  like  employing  a  girl  whose  only  recom- 
mendations, beyond  being  strong  and  healthy,  were  that 
she  could  construe  Greek  and  Latin  and  ride  to  hounds  ? 
Therefore,  it  was  like  the  bursting  of  a  bomb  when  it 
became  known  that  Robin  Elgar  would  farm  Airlie  her- 
self. And  the  neighborhood  immediately  divided  into 
two  factions,  each  loud  in  prophecy  :  some  said  she  could 
do  it,  and  do  it  well ;  some  wagged  their  heads  signifi- 
cantly and  said,  "  We  '11  see." 
10 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE    FIRST    HARVEST. 

IT  was  fortunate  for  the  young  farmer  that  the  spring 
which  had  opened  so  well  did  not  prove  to  be  a  very 
early  one  after  all,  for  in  spite  of  her  exertions  things 
were  behind  time.  The  feverish  energy  of  the  young 
woman  was  something  new  to  the  men,  accustomed  as 
they  had  become  to  a  slipshod  method  of  work,  and 
it  was  a  new  thing  for  them  to  have  a  master's  eye  con- 
stantly upon  them.  One  of  the  first  things  to  be  done 
usually  in  the  very  early  spring,  before  the  various  plant- 
ings are  begun,  is  to  pick  up  and  haul  away  the  stones 
that  have  been  turned  up  in  the  ploughing  the  year 
before,  and  which  must  be  removed  before  the  mowing 
machine  passes  over  the  young  clover.  These  stones 
Robin  had  ordered  Bill  to  pick  up  and%  haul  away  in  the 
ox-cart.  Bill  showed  signs  of  insubordination.  He 
turned  away  quickly  and  muttered  something  about 
"not  taking  his  orders  from  a  woman  nohow."  Robin 
heard  his  words  and  noted  the  sullen  look  on  his  face. 
Calling  out  sharply  to  him  to  stop  the  cart,  she  said  : 

146 


THE   FIRST   HARVEST.  147 

"  As  long  as  you  stay  on  this  farm  you  will  obey  me.  I 
am  master  here  ;  if  you  are  dissatisfied  you  can  go.  I  will 
give  you  a  day  to  decide  whether  you  will  obey  me  or 
leave." 

She  turned  on  her  heel.  Bill  stayed,  and  the  insubor- 
dination ended  there.  The  ploughing  was  finally  done, 
though  it  was  later  than  the  prescribed  time  before  the 
corn  was  all  in  the  ground. 

One  morning  in  the  early  June  days,  when  Bill  was  at 
work  in  the  vegetable  garden  and  Saunders  was  working 
the  potatoes,  Robin,  after  watching  them  for  some  little 
time,  took  a  look  at  the  wheat  which  was  coming  on 
finely  ;  then  went  to  the  garden,  which  had  had  very  little 
attention.  She  had  planted  out  a  few  things  the  week 
before  and  the  house  plants  had  all  been  put  out.  She 
stood  just  inside  the  straggling  hedge  which  enclosed  it, 
and  took  in  with  one  sweeping  look  the  beauty  and  neg- 
lect of  the  place.  Unlike  most  gardens  in  the  country,  it 
was  entirely  remote  from  the  vegetable  garden.  At  the 
back  were  tall  stately  trees,  with  vines  clinging  in  green 
masses  about  their  trunks,  and  early  though  it  was  in 
the  season,  they  hung  in  great  festoons  from  the  lower 
branches.  The  beds  were  cut  into  diamonds,  half-moons 
and  long  ovals,  each  bearing  a  perfect  tangle  of  special 
flowers.  Here  was  an  oval  bed  of  scarlet  geraniums, 
there  one  of  roses  just  beginning  to  bloom  ;  here  was 
a  half-moon  of  mignonette  which  scented  the  entire 
garden,  there  was  another  of  sweet  peas  ;  while  in  some 


148  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

of  the  beds  rose  up  old-fashioned  frameworks  covered 
over  with  running  vines,  and  some  of  the  beds  were  bor- 
dered with  sweet  alyssum.  The  paths  between  were  thick 
and  springy  with  young  clover,  which  was  as  soft  under 
foot  as  the  finest  moss.  On  each  side  of  the  entrance  were 
huge  bushes  of  hydrangea,  which  had  been  planted  forty 
years  before  by  Gilbert's  father.  At  the  end  of  one 
straight  path  was  the  old  pear  tree,  where  the  swing  used 
to  be,  but  which  now  had  a  bench  running  round  its 
gnarled  trunk.  The  girl  stood  and  gazed  lovingly  around 
her  and  said  to  herself: 

"When  shall  I  ever  again  have  time  to  sit  under  the 
old  pear  tree,  and  when  will  this  wilderness  of  vines  and 
weeds  ever  get  any  attention,  I  wonder  ? " 

With  a  sigh  she  turned  to  come  away,  for  there  was 
poultry  to  be  looked  after.  As  she  raised  her  eyes  she 
saw  a  man  just  coming  through  the  hedge.  It  was  Jared 
Comly.  As  soon  as  she  glanced  at  him,  he  pulled  off 
his  hat,  and  coming  rapidly  towards  her  he  said  rather 
gravely : 

"  Good  morning,  Robin ;  I  came  to  see  thee  about  a 
matter  of  business.  Has  thee  a  few  moments  at  thy  dis- 
posal ?  " 

"  Certainly,  Jared ;  as  many  as  thee  pleases.  Will 
thee  come  to  the  bench  under  the  pear  tree  ?  I  was  just 
lamenting  to  myself  the  neglected  condition  of  the 
garden,"  she  said  as  she  led  the  way  and  seated  herself 
on  the  bench,  motioning  him  to  seat  himself  also.  Jared, 


THE  FIRST   HARVEST.  149 

as  she  spoke,  had  glanced  absently  at  the  flower  beds. 
He  stood  a  moment,  holding  his  hat  in  his  hand  and 
gazing  down  at  Robin  as  she  sat  on  the  bench  waiting 
for  him  to  begin,  and  at  last  he  said  : 

"  I  hear  thee  is  going  to  farm  Airlie  thyself,  and  that 
thee  contemplates  taking  some  one  in  the  capacity  of 
overseer  ;  and  I  have  come  to  offer  myself." 

Robin  drew  a  quick  breath  and  pressed  the  palm  of 
her  hand  with  sudden  force  upon  the  empty  bench  at  her 
side. 

"  I  am  afraid  thee  has  been  somewhat  misinformed, 
Jared.  It  is  true  that  I  am  going  to  try  to  farm,  but  I 
am  not  going  to  have  an  overseer  ;  we  cannot  afford  it. 
We  need  an  extra  hand  on  the  farm,  some  one  ex- 
perienced who  will  live  at  Airlie  with  us,  and  be  useful 
in  any  way  when  needed,  but  who  will,  of  course,  work 
as  a  regular  farm  hand." 

"  Well,  I  am  willing  to  take  such  a  place,"  he  answered 
briefly  ;  and  as  he  spoke  he  eyed  keenly  the  down-bent 
face  of  the  girl. 

"  Jared,  does  thee  think  I  would  consent  to  take  thee 
as  a  farm  hand,  paying  thee  ordinary  farm  wages  ? " 

"  Why  not  ?  I  am  not  afraid  of  work.  Does  thee 
think  I  have  never  done  it  before,  nor  received  small 
wages  either  ? "  he  persisted. 

"  But  think  what  it  would  mean.  Thee  is  masterful 
and  fond  of  thy  own  way.  Ay,  I  know  it.  Would  thee 
be  willing  to  be  subordinate  to  a  woman  ?  to  receive 


150  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

instructions  from  me?  Why  does  thee  seek  such  a 
place  ?  it  has  nothing  to  offer  a  man  of  thy  ambition." 
And  she  looked  up  at  him  suddenly,  as  if  to  read  him 
through  and  through  and  fathom  his  motive.  A  slight 
color  flushed  his  face.  "Was  there  a  challenge  or  a 
warning  in  her  question  ? "  he  asked  himself,  but  he  re- 
plied rather  grimly  : 

"  There  is  certainly  no  special  glory  in  such  a  posi- 
tion, but  I  am  not  afraid  of  work,  nor  of  small  wages 
either ;  and  thee  forgets  it  would  be  no  small  privilege 
to  be  able  to  be  of  use  to  thy  mother  and  thee." 

"  I  know  of  old  how  generous  and  kind  thee  can  be, 
Jared.  I  shall  never  forget  Christmas-eve,  and  all  thee 
did  for  us  afterwards,"  said  Robin  ;  and  she  faltered  a 
little  over  the  recollection. 

"  It  was  only  what  any  man  would  have  done  for  thee; 
don't  think  of  it,"  he  replied  quickly. 

There  was  rather  a  long  pause,  during  which  Jared 
stood  immovable  in  the  path,  quietly  waiting  for  Robin 
to  turn  it  all  over  in  her  mind,  furtively  watching  her  the 
while.  At  last  Robin  rose  and  said  : 

"  I  think  thee  had  better  go  in  and  talk  it  over  with 
mother.  I  will  go  in  with  thee." 

They  left  the  garden  and  went  into  the  house  in  utter 
silence.  When  Robin  reached  her  mother's  side  she  said: 

"  Mother,  here  is  Jared,  who  has  come  to  see  about 
taking  a  hand  on  the  farm.  I  think  thee  had  better  talk 
it  over,  and  whatever  thee  thinks  best  and  decides  upon 
will  meet  my  approval."  And  she  left  them  together. 


THE   FIRST    HARVEST.  I$I 

When  she  was  far  enough  away  to  be  heard  by  no  one 
she  stopped  abruptly  and  said  aloud  : 

"  Robin  Elgar,  thee  's  a  coward  ;  thee,  who  has  never 
feared  any  thing  in  thy  life,  is  afraid  of  that  man  ;  now 
why?" 

Having  announced  to  herself  this  fact,  she  went  on  in 
her  mind  to  try  to  define  and  reason  out  the  cause.  She 
said  to  herself :  "  There  is  something  about  Jared  that 
is  repellent  to  me  ;  there  is  an  antagonism  that  I  cannot 
fathom.  He  is  honorable,  and  yet  I  distrust  him.  There 
is  a  suppressed  something  about  him  that  always  leads 
me  to  expect  an  outburst ;  there  is  a  persistence  about 
him  which  baffles  and  annoys  me  ;  and  he  has  a  motive 
for  wishing  to  come  here,  beyond  the  mere  work  "  ;  then 
she  added  in  her  mind,  after  considering  a  moment,  "  and 
I  think  I  know  what  that  motive  is."  She  set  her  lips 
together  resolutely  and  said  aloud  with  emphasis, 
"  Never." 

She  went  back  to  the  house.  As  she  entered  the  room 
she  heard  her  mother  saying  in  a  more  cheerful  tone 
than  she  had  heard  for  many  a  day  : 

"  Then,  that  is  satisfactory  to  thee,  Jared  ? " 

"  Perfectly  so,  Cousin  Dorothea  "  ;  for  Jared  gave  the 
title  of  cousin  from  custom  and  courtesy. 

"  Robin,  my  child,  it  is  all  settled  ;  Jared  will  come 
here  just  before  harvest.  He  will  be  thy  right-hand 
man.  I  have  told  him  we  can  only  pay  a  little  above  the 
ordinary  wages,  but  that  thee  and  I  had  decided  we 
might  offer  another  year  a  half  share  in  the  dairy,  if 


152  GILBERT  ELGAR'S   SON. 

every  thing  is  satisfactory.  And  we  will  give  Jared  the 
southwest  chamber,  for  we  must  make  him  comfortable. 
I  wish  I  could  get  about  and  attend  to  things  myself ; 
but,  Robin,  thee  will  see  that  every  thing  is  nice  and 
bright,  will  thee  not  ?  " 

Robin  saw  that  her  mother  was  more  like  her  old  self 
than  she  had  been  at  all  since  her  father's  death. 

"  Yes,  mother,  dear,  I  will  see  that  every  thing  is  as 
nice  as  it  would  be  if  thee  could  do  it  thyself.  I  am 
glad  thee  looks  so  bright." 

Then  followed  a  strictly  business  talk,  upon  which 
Robin  insisted,  defining  clearly  what  their  position  to 
each  other  would  be,  the  exact  wages  to  be  paid,  etc. 
She  laid  before  him  the  affairs  of  the  farm  and  her  plans 
for  reducing  the  debt ;  and  then  followed  a  long  discus- 
sion about  the  condition  of  the  farm  and  the  length  of 
time  it  would  take  to  bring  it  up  to  its  old  flourishing 
condition.  Robin  ended  by  remarking : 

"  It  will  take  years  to  do  it,  and  years  of  unceasing 
toil  and  struggle  ;  but  I  am  not  afraid."  Then  she 
added  :  "  I  think  thee  had  better  come  and  take  a  look 
at  things  ;  thee  will  understand  the  difficulties  and  all 
that  there  is  to  be  done. 

As  they  went  from  spot  to  spot  and  Robin  showed  him 
what  work  had  been  done  since  she  took  hold  of  things. 
Jared  was  utterly  amazed  at  the  knowledge  and  judg- 
ment the  girl  had  shown  He  would  never  have  be- 
lieved a  woman  could  have  so  much  capacity  and  brain 


THE   FIRST   HARVEST.  153 

outside  of  her  own  "  sphere,"  as  he  called  it  in  his  mind  ; 
for  Jared  was  one  of  the  many  men  who  still  had  a 
"  sphere,"  and  a  narrow  one,  in  which  woman-kind  was 
forever  to  revolve  in  unthinking  content.  But  as  he 
walked  along  and  listened  to  Robin  as  she  pointed  out 
the  terrible  effects  that  the  non-fertilization  had  had  on 
her  father's  farm,  and  how  the  want  of  proper  drainage 
had  affected  a  certain  part  of  the  land,  and  her  proposed 
remedies,  he  was  forced  to  an  admiration  and  respect  for 
this  girl's  mind  that  he  would  have  thought  it  impossible 
to  bestow  upon  any  but  a  man.  And  it  began  to  dawn 
upon  him  before  they  got  back  to  the  house  that  he 
would  have  something  to  deal  with  in  this  strong,  young 
spirit  that  he  had  not  reckoned  upon.  He  ran  over  in 
his  mind  different  points.  She  had  received  a  far  deeper, 
wider  education  than  he  himself  had.  She  was  as  daring 
a  rider  as  he,  and  here  to-day  she  had  stepped  into  his 
own  realm  and  met  him  with  as  sound  a  judgment  and 
quick  an  insight  as  he  could  have  shown.  The  experi- 
ence only  was  lacking,  and  he  said  to  himself  : 

"  Jared,  my  man,  thee  has  a  hard  road  before  thee  to 
travel.  Win  if  thee  can  ;  she  is  worthy  of  all  the  rever- 
ence and  heart-throbs  a  man  can  give  her."  He  took 
his  leave  almost  as  soon  as  they  reached  the  house, 
and  as  he  disappeared  down  the  lane  Robin  thought  as 
she  looked  after  him  : 

"  I  wonder  how  it  will  work  ?  I  have  grave  misgiv- 
ings ;  but  mother  is  more  happy  over  it  than  she  has 


154  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

been  since  dear  father's  death.  She  likes  Jared,  and 
that  ought  to  be  enough  for  me." 

The  middle  of  June  came,  bringing  with  it  the  day  of 
the  sale  of  the  land  at  Airlie  ;  and  a  motley  collection  of 
farmers  and  villagers  assembled,  who,  as  they  arrived  and 
hitched  their  horses,  immediately  disappeared  around 
the  corner  of  the  house  and  through  the  orchard  to  the 
spot  where  the  bidding  was  to  be.  The  land  that  was 
for  rent  had  been  taken,  almost  as  soon  as  offered,  by  a 
young  farmer  living  "  up  the  road  "  beyond  Airlie  village. 
Before  the  bidding  began,  a  good  deal  of  time  was  spent 
in  going  over  the  acres  offered  for  sale,  in  examining  the 
timber,  and  in  talking  over  the  deplorable  condition  of 
Gilbert  Elgar's  affairs  ;  and  it  was  whispered  about,  "  on 
good  authority,"  that  "  Jared  Comly  was  coming  to  live 
at  Airlie  and  farm  the  land  on  shares  "  ;  which  was 
promptly  denied,  and  a  statement  made,  "  coming  from 
the  family,"  that  "  Robin  was  going  to  farm  the  land  her- 
self, with  Jared  only  to  do  the  rough  work  and  play 
watch-dog  to  the  two  women."  This  last  statement  was 
passed  from  man  to  man,  with  the  prophecy  that  "  they 
all  knew  how  that  would  end,  and  they  'd  bet  on  Jared." 

The  sale  was  finally  made,  and  the  two  hundred  acres 
were  knocked  down  at  forty-three  dollars  an  acre. 
Robin,  in  the  due  course  of  time,  paid  down  with  a 
thankful  heart  something  like  eight  thousand  dollars, 
keeping,  after  paying  the  expenses  of  the  sale,  a  sum 
which  was  to  go  towards  fertilizers  and  the  buying  of 


THE   FIRST   HARVEST.  155 

several  Jersey  cows.  The  time  passed  rapidly  between 
the  day  of  the  sale  and  the  commencement  of  harvest. 
Jared  had  taken  up  his  home  at  Airlie,  and  had  begun 
work.  He  went  through  the  preliminaries,  seeing  that 
the  machines  were  all  in  working  order.  The  first  step 
in  the  harvest  was  taken  in  the  cutting  of  the  clover  ; 
then  the  most  important  work  of  all  the  year  was  at 
hand,  the  cutting  of  the  wheat. 

It  was  a  hot  day  in  late  June,  when  with  the  early 
dawn  the  heavy  machine,  reaper  and  binder  combined, 
entered  the  wheat-field,  with  Jared  riding  one  of  the 
horses,  the  two  men,  Bill  and  Saunders,  following,  one 
with  a  cradle  to  cut  the  grain  in  the  corners  of  the  fence 
where  the  machine  could  not  reach  it.  There  was  a 
moment  of  waiting,  and  Robin,  for  whom  they  paused, 
appeared.  A  broad-brimmed  hat  covered  her  head  and 
shielded  her  face,  a  plain  cotton  gown,  with  only  a  wide 
hem  at  its  foot,  fitted  her  tall,  robust  young  figure  ;  her 
feet  were  encased  in  stout,  heavy  boots,  while  her  hands, 
bare  and  brown,  were  left  to  the  mercy  of  the  hot  June 
sun. 

"  Are  you  all  ready  ?  "  she  called.  Then  she  sprang 
lightly  into  the  little  high  seat,  perched  in  mid-air  upon 
the  binder.  With  a  creaking,  whirring  sound  Jared 
started  the  horses,  and  in  a  few  moments  a  wide  path  was 
left  behind  them,  with  neat  little  bundles  of  wheat, 
deftly  tied,  lying  in  its  track  at  equal  distances  apart. 
Soon  Bill  and  Saunders  were  gathering  them  up,  and  one 


156  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

after  another  the  golden  shocks  rose  up  where  a  moment 
before  only  the  growing  grain  had  been.  When  the 
morning  was  half  spent  Jared  stopped  his  horses,  jumped 
down,  went  to  Robin's  side,  and,  looking  up  in  her  face, 
said,  anxiously  : 

"  I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  thee  exposed  to  this  burning 
sun.  Is  there  no  other  way  ?  " 

Robin  had  with  watchful  eye  been  regulating  the 
levers  of  the  machine,  or,  when  necessary,  guiding  with 
her  hand  the  long  wisps  of  grain  as  they  rushed  past  from 
the  sharp  knives  into  the  little  wooden  half-trough, 
whence  it  issued  in  neatly-tied  bundles.  She  paused, 
with  uplifted  hand,  and  smilingly  replied, "  None."  Then 
seeing  how  really  distressed  he  looked,  she  added 
lightly  : 

"  Why,  Jared,  I  Ve  ridden  on  this  old  machine  many  a 
time,  and  it  is  not  half  so  hard  work  as  riding  thirty  miles 
after  a  fox."  But  Jared  did  not  smile  in  response. 

"  I  wish  I  could  do  it  all  for  thee,"  he  said. 

"  But  thee  cannot,"  she  returned  decidedly.  He  went 
back  to  his  horses,  and  the  machine  took  up  its  round 
again.  Never  after  that  during  the  reaping  did  he  ven- 
ture to  express  his  concern  or  evince  any  feeling.  He 
was  quick  to  see  when  she  needed  help,  and  gave 
it  silently.  Little  did  the  girl  know  how  much  he  saved 
her ;  how  many  rough  places  he  smoothed  and  made 
easy  for  her  feet. 

All  through  the  remainder  of  the  harvest  she  was 


THE   FIRST   HARVEST.  157 

invariably  in  the  field  with  her  men,  but  it  was  often  with 
aching  limbs  and  tired  muscles.  When  she  entered  the 
house,  foot-sore  and  weary,  her  mother's  loving,  anxious 
eyes  would  follow  her  every  movement,  and  her  gentle 
voice  would  ask : 

"  Tired,  daughter  ?  " 

"  Not  very,  mother,"  and  she  would  stoop  to  kiss  the 
faded  face. 

As  time  wore  on,  and  Jared  pursued  his  own  way  with 
no  apparent  concern  for  her,  she  began  to  feel  with 
relief  that  she  had  made  a  mistake  in  thinking  he  had  any 
special  motive  in  coming  to  Airlie.  Towards  the  end  of 
harvest,  when  they  were  getting  through  with  the  hay  and 
oats,  Robin  stood  watching  the  last  load  of  hay  leave  the 
field,  just  at  sunset  one  day,  when  a  couple  of  horsemen 
passed.  They  saw  her  in  the  field,  and  drew  rein.  They 
were  Henry  Standish  and  Thaddy  Watkins.  Robin 
took  off  her  rough  hat  and  tossed  it  on  the  ground,  and 
with  no  thought  for  her  appearance  stepped  forward  to 
the  hedge  which  separated  the  field  from  the  turnpike. 
Jared  barely  acknowledged  their  presence  by  lifting  his 
hat  in  return  for  their  salutation. 

"Miss  Elgar,  I  can  think  of  nothing  but  Maud 
Miiller  as  I  look  at  you,"  said  Standish,  reining  in  his 
horse,  as  with  uncovered  head  he  rode  close  beside  the 
hedge. 

"  Is  it  because  of  the  torn  hat  and  rustic  health  ?  or 
because  of  your  likeness  to  the  Judge,  who 


158  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

• '  '  Drew  his  bridle  in  the  shade 

Of  the  apple-tree  to  greet  the  maid,' " 

said  she,  looking  at  him  smilingly. 

"  Not  because  of  the  Judge,  you  may  be  sure,  for  I 
always  thought  the  Judge  a  shabby  cur  to  leave  the  maid 
at  all.  But  I  have  not  seen  you  since  one  night  last 
winter  at  Captain  Esten's  when " 

Here  Standish  stopped  abruptly,  for  he  suddenly 
remembered  the  tragedy  which  had  ended  the  night  for 
the  girl  before  him.  A  shade  fell  over  her  face  as  she 
gravely  replied  : 

"  I  remember ;  it  seems  a  long  time  ago  ;  but  I  had 
not  heard  that  you  were  in  the  neighborhood." 

"  I  came  for  only  a  few  days.  I  am  going  abroad, 
and  came  to  say  good-bye  to  the  Estens.  Miss  Harmony 
is  going  to  drive  me  over  to  Airlie  on  Sunday." 

"  I  am  very  glad.  Will  you  say  to  Harmony  that  we 
shall  expect  you  both  to  stay  to  tea  with  us  ?  and  you, 
too,  Mr.  Watkins,"  turning  to  him. 

"  Well,  I  mus'  say  I  'm  dlad  you  did  n'  leave  me  out ;  I 
mos'  thought  you  would  n'  speak  to  a  fella  at  all." 
After  a  few  more  words  the  men  rode  on. 

"  Jove  !  "  said  Standish,  "  what  a  superb-looking 
woman  she  is." 

"  Yes,"  said  Thaddy,  "  there  ain'  a  girl  in  all  Mary- 
Ian*  can  hoi'  a  can'le  to  her  ;  an'  what  a  sof  snap  Comly 
has.  I  tol'  'm  so  th'  other  day,  an'  he  mos'  bowl'  me 
over  with  a  savage  look," 


THE   FIRST   HARVEST.  159 

"  Is  he  in  love  with  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,  no  ques'ion  of  it." 

"  Well,  I  am  not  surprised  at  it ;  but  he  strikes  me  as 
being  rather  a  churlish  fellow,  not  half  worthy  such  a 
woman." 

And  Standish  turned  in  his  saddle  for  a  last  glimpse 
of  Robin,  standing  in  the  hay-field  with  the  golden 
sunset  behind  her. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

UNDER    THE    NEW    RULE. 

D  OBIN  entered  the  house  one  day  at  noon  and  said 
triumphantly  : 

"  Well,  mother  dear,  my  first  harvest  is  over,  all  but 
the  threshing." 

"  Now  thee  will  take  a  good  rest,  daughter,  will  thee 
not  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  just  yet,  mother,  for  the  threshing  begins 
day  after  to-morrow,  and  I  must  ride  down  this  after- 
noon and  see  if  Cousin  Deborah  will  come  and  take 
charge  of  the  kitchen  and  the  men's  table ;  for  there 
will  be  at  least  twenty  men  in  all  to  cook  for,  and  I  shall 
have  my  hands  full." 

"  Why,  child,  what  is  thee  going  to  thresh  now  for  ? 
Why  does  thee  not  stack  the  wheat  until  fall,  as  thy 
father  always  did  ?  " 

"  Well,  mother,  I  'd  rather  thresh  now.  We  are  in  for 
a  dry  spell,  and  if  I  can  get  the  grain  all  threshed  and 
under  cover  there  will  be  no  risk  of  losing  any.  The 
men  and  the  engine  are  at  Captain  Esten's.  We  are  the 

160 


UNDER  THE  NEW   RULE.  l6l 

next  place,  and  I  have  engaged  them  for  the  day  after 
to-morrow." 

"  Then  thee  will  get  no  rest  for  several  days  yet  ?  " 

"  No,  mother,  thee  knows  there  is  never  much  rest  in 
the  life  of  a  farmer  who  farms  in  earnest,  and  there  will 
be  less  in  ours  for  the  next  few  years  ;  for  we  are  behind 
in  every  thing.  And  thee  knows  after  the  threshing  is 
over  there  will  be  hauling  to  do,  and  while  Jared  is 
doing  that  I  must  see  to  having  the  hedges  clipped  and 
to  the  mending  of  the  fences  in  some  of  the  fields. 
Then  there  are  ditching  and  clearing  to  be  attended  to. 
Does  thee  remember  the  little  triangular  piece  of  land 
beyond  the  ice-pond  ?  Well,  I  am  going  to  have  it 
cleared  and  drained.  Then,  mother,  I  must  begin  to 
take  the  dairy  personally  in  hand.  I  want  to  make  it  a 
feature  of  the  farm.  I  am  beginning  to  wonder  anyway 
if  a  dairy  farm  would  not  pay  better  altogether." 

Dorothea  sat  with  folded  hands  and  watched  her  child 
as  she  enumerated  the  work  to  be  done.  There  was  a 
flush  of  eagerness  on  Robin's  face  which  betokened  that 
she  was  thoroughly  in  earnest  and  that  she  was  absorbed, 
heart  and  soul,  in  her  undertaking.  And  Dorothea 
sighed  to  think  how  greatly  she  herself  was  incapacitated 
from  taking  her  share  of  the  labor  in-doors. 

"  If  I  could  only  get  about  and  help  thee,  but  instead 
I  am  a  helpless  drag  on  thee,  my  child." 

"  Oh,  mother,  if  thee  does  not  wish  to  break  my  heart, 

never  utter  such  words   again.     It  is  my  delight  that 
ii 


1 62  GILBERT   ELGAR*S   SON. 

I  am  doing  for  thee,  and  for  Airlie,  just  what  thy  son 
would  do  were  he  here.  If  father  were  only  here  too, 
that  I  might  be  doing  for  him  ! " 

"But,  daughter,  to  think  that  thee,  a  woman,  should 
be  the  only  thing  between  me  and  homelessness ;  that 
thee  should  have  to  toil  in  the  sun  and  rain,  be  around 
with  rough  men  and  wear  thy  young  life  out  in  drudgery. 
It  is  almost  more  than  I  can  bear." 

"  Mother,  this  farm  is  ours,  and  I  am  only  working  for 
my  own.  It  is  my  pride  and  joy  that  I  am  strong  and 
well ;  and,  mother,  listen  :  the  day  has  gone  by  for  the 
young  women  of  the  family  to  stay  housed  and  sheltered. 
Thousands  of  them  are  doing  the  work  of  brothers  and 
sons,  only  no  one  realizes  it ;  but  a  change  is  certainly 
afoot,  and  the  time  has  come  when  all  things  are 
opening  alike  to  the  daughters  as  well  as  to  the  sons." 

"  Child,  what  does  thee  mean  ?  Where  did  thee  get 
any  such  notion  ?  I  hope  thee  does  not  mean  that 
women  from  choice  will  go  out  and  do  the  things  men 
do  ?  Heaven  forbid  any  such  thing  !  "  said  Dorothea, 
startled. 

"  Mother,  since  I  have  been  at  work  among  my  hands, 
my  experience,  short  as  it  has  been,  has  already  opened 
up  to  me  an  entirely  new  view  of  things.  I  dare  not  tell 
thee  all  that  is  in  my  mind,  but  I  am  trying  to  work  out 
some  problems  far  harder  than  any  thing  I  ever  met  with 
in  calculus." 

"  I  beg  of  thee,  my  daughter,  to  put  any  dangerous 


UNDER   THE   NEW    RULE.  163 

notions  away,  such  as  are  becoming  the  fashion  nowa- 
days, about  the  equal  rights  of  men  and  women.  What 
do  women  want  more  than  to  be  as  happy  as  we  were 
in  the  good  old  days,  when  we  stayed  at  home,  spun,  did 
the  mending,  looked  after  the  house,  and  did  not  wish  to 
go  out  of  our  sphere  and  compete  with  men,  and  become 
unfeminine  ?  " 

"  Mother,  thee  has  let  thy  mind  run  ahead  of  what  we 
commenced  to  speak  of.  Suppose  I  had  helplessly  let 
the  old  home  go  away  from  us  ;  what  would  have  become 
of  us  ?  There  is  many  a  thing  that  lies  under  a  woman's 
hand  that  she  can  do  that  she  should  do,  no  matter  if  it 
is  in  a  man's  province  ;  but  I  want  to  ask  thee  a  ques- 
tion "  ;  and  Robin  put  her  arm  around  her  mother's 
neck. 

"  Does  thee  think,  mother,  I  have  become  unfeminine, 
or  rough,  or  any  less  a  woman,  because  I  have  gone  out 
of  the  beaten  path,  and  have  taken  a  man's  work  on  my 
shoulders  ?  " 

"  Why,  no,  my  daughter." 

"  Does  thee  think,  mother  dear,  that  in  the  future  I 
am  likely  to  become  any  less  a  woman,  any  less  gentle  to 
thee,  any  less  nice  in  my  instincts,  any  less  lovable  or 
lovely  in  thy  sight,  because  I  shall  stand  side  by  side 
with  my  men,  a  common  laborer  like  them  ?" 

"  No,  dear  child  ;  I  think,  on  the  contrary,  thee  will 
be  rather  a  softening  influence  upon  them  than  the 
reverse," 


164  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

"  I  am  answered,  mother." 

"  What  does  thee  mean  ?  " 

"  Nothing  ;  thee  was  answering  one  of  the  problems 
in  my  mind,  that  is  all  "  ;  and  she  smiled  gently.  Doro- 
thea looked  puzzled.  She  said  : 

"  I  am  only  afraid,  daughter,  thee  will  become  touched 
by  this  new  movement  of  discontent  among  the  women 
of  our  country." 

"  I  am  touched  by  it,  mother,  and  so  is  every  woman 
as  soon  as  she  stands  upon  her  own  feet  to  battle  for  her 
daily  bread." 

"  But,  child,  where  does  the  discontent  lie  ?  The 
shielded  home-life,  with  its  simple  duties,  is  clearly  the 
place  for  women.  We  have  our  men  to  represent  us. 
Surely  thee  does  not  wish  to  go  out  of  the  path  thy 
mother's  feet  have  always  walked  in  ?  " 

"  The  path  thy  feet  have  walked  in  was  smooth  and 
fair,  and  thee  was  content.  Thee  speaks  of  men  repre- 
senting us,  but  what  sort  of  a  representation  is  it  when 
the  class  to  be  represented  does  not  choose  its  represen- 
tatives? and  when  the  self-styled  representatives  never 
give  ear  to  the  wants  or  cries  of  those  for  whom  they 
stand  ? " 

"Oh,  my  child,  thee  is  talking  heresy." 

"No,  mother  dear,  not  heresy,  only  truth." 

Dorothea  was  distressed.  She  hardly  comprehended 
her  daughter.  A  half-misgiving,  one  which  was  often 
uppermost  in  her  mind,  came  over  her  :  that  hers  and 


UNDER   THE   NEW   RULE.  l6$ 

Gilbert's  plan  of  education  had  been  a  mistake  ;  and  she 
vaguely  felt  troubled  at  the  tendency  in  Robin  to  break 
away  from  the  cherished  time-honored  opinions.  She 
remembered  that  Gilbert  himself  had  held  some  of 
these  strange  opinions  in  regard  to  the  place  women 
should  hold  in  the  world,  and  she  sighed  to  think  that 
Robin  perhaps  came  honestly  by  her  queer,  independent 
notions,  and  that  from  childhood  she  had  always  been 
encouraged  by  her  father  to  express  them. 

But  her  reflections  were  cut  short  by  the  appearance 
of  Jared,  who  had  come  in  from  the  fields  a  few  moments 
before,  summoned  by  the  big  bell  to  the  mid-day  meal. 
Simple  as  the  meal  often  was,  it  was  always  graced  by  a 
few  flowers  from  the  garden.  The  plain  joint,  flanked 
by  a  small  dish  of  "  shoulder  "  for  Jared,  together  with 
several  vegetables,  was  served  with  a  daintiness  not  often 
found  in  a  farm-house.  And  the  pretty  china  bowl  of 
apple-float,  covered  with  rich  cream,  made  a  tempting 
dessert  for  any  one.  Robin 'helped  her  mother  to  her 
accustomed  place  at  the  table,  then  took  her  own  as 
carver  at  the  other  end  ;  and  as  she  sliced  off  the  juicy 
mutton  she  said  : 

"  Jared,  I  am  going  to  ride  down  and  see  if  Cousin 
Deborah  will  come  and  stay  through  threshing  with  us." 

"  Yes  ?  and  will  thee  ride  by  The  Hatch  while  thee  is 
out  and  see  if  Captain  Esten  is  really  going  to  be  through 
with  his  wheat  to-morrow,  and  tell  him  we  expect  the 
thresher  and  the  men  here  the  following  day.  I  am  going 


166  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

to  put  the  reaper  and  mower  away  this  afternoon  and  do 
several  odd  jobs." 

"  Very  well  ;  and  Jared,  I  think  the  lawn  might  be 
mown  to-morrow." 

"  Yes,  I  will  attend  to  it." 

She  continued  :  "  I  am  anxious,  as  soon  as  the  thresh- 
ing is  over,  to  see  to  the  breaking  of  the  two  colts.  The 
younger  one,  as  I  told  thee,  I  want  for  riding  and  driv- 
ing, although  he  is  rather  too  powerful,  perhaps,  for 
a  woman.  The  other  will  look  well  in  the  team,  I 
think." 

As  Robin  spoke  of  the  colts,  a  sombre,  darkening  look 
swept  over  Jared's  face.  He  said  abruptly  : 

"  Thee  means  to  break  them  thyself  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ? "  she  asked  quietly. 

"  I  do  not  take  much  stock  in  women  doing  such 
things  ;  thee  runs  great  risk  thyself  and  risk  of  ruining 
the  horse  ;  thee  M  better  let  me  take  them  in  hand,"  he 
said,  almost  curtly. 

"  Yes,  daughter,  thee  had  better  let  Jared  break  them 
both  ;  it  is  too  dangerous  for  thee,"  said  Dorothea. 

"  Thee  need  not  fear,  mother  ;  I  shall  have  no  trouble  ; 
both  the  colts  follow  me  all  over  the  field.  I  can  do  any 
thing  with  them  almost  that  I  please.  I  think  I  can 
prove  to  Jared  that,  although  I  differ  radically  with  him 
as  to  the  methods  of  breaking  a  horse,  and  also  as  to 
what  a  woman  should  and  should  not  do,  these  two 
horses  will  be  in  little  danger  of  being  ruined,  and  will 


UNDER  THE  NEW   RULE.  167 

be  about  as  manageable  ac  any  that  have  ever  been 
raised  on  the  farm.  I  have  no  objection  to  Jared's 
breaking  the  colt  for  the  team,  but  no  one  shall  lay  hand 
upon  the  other/'  And  then  turning  to  Jarcd  she  said  : 

"  As  soon  as  thee  has  time,  I  wish  thee  would  cut  me 
two  poles  ;  I  shall  need  them  in  teaching  the  young  one 
to  drive." 

She  spoke  resolutely  and  coolly.  For  a  moment  the 
two  young  people  measured  each  other's  strength  ;  then 
Jared  said  quietly  : 

"  Very  well ;  but  bear  in  mind  that  almost  any  young 
horse  will  kick  when  first  harnessed  to  poles." 

"  I  shall  run  no  risk,"  she  replied  gently.  "  Please  tell 
Saunders  to  saddle  Comanche  and  bring  him  up."  And 
she  went  to  make  ready  for  her  ride  to  Ivanwold. 

The  afternoon  wore  away.  Dorothea  sat  in  the  porch 
knitting.  Every  now  and  then  she  would  glance  down 
the  lane,  watching  for  her  daughter's  return.  Every 
thing  was  silent.  The  trees  stretched  their  long  shadows 
across  the  grass  ;  occasionally  the  fluttering  and  twitter- 
ing of  the  chimney-swallows  could  be  heard  as  they 
returned  homeward  from  their  wanderings,  and  darted 
down  the  tall  chimneys  that  towered  high  above  the 
peaked  roofs  of  the  old  house.  Suddenly  Adsum  dashed 
off  the  porch,  down  the  steps,  and  stood  looking  down 
the  lane.  Dorothea  knew  his  faithful  ears  had  heard  the 
approach  of  horse's  hoofs  far  away  on  the  pike,  long 
before  her  keen  eyes  could  discern  the  presence  of  any 


1 68  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

one.  Robin  soon  trotted  up  through  the  long  grass, 
bending  her  head  low,  now  and  then,  to  escape  the 
branches  of  the  trees  as  she  rode  under  them.  She  went, 
as  her  habit  was,  straight  to  the  stables.  There  she 
encountered  Jared,  who  came  forward. 

"  Never  mind  me,  Jared,   I  will  unsaddle  Comanche." 

But  Jared  paid  no  heed  ;  he  held  up  his  arms  to  help 
her  dismount,  put  her  gently  on  her  feet,  and  before  she 
could  utter  a  word  he  was  leading  Comanche  to  the 
stable.  She  turned  and  ran  lightly  to  the  house,  joining 
her  mother  on  the  porch. 

"  Mother,  Cousin  Deb  will  come  and  help  us  through 
threshing.  And  from  whom  does  thee  think  she  's  had 
a  letter?" 

"Not  from  Richard?" 

"  Yes,  from  Dick.  It  seems  he  has  been  off  in  charge 
of  an  expedition  to  Norway  and  Sweden,  having  been 
sent  by  some  scientific  society  connected  with  the 
University  ;  but  the  German  name  of  it  is  so  long  and 
in  such  small  text  I  cannot  make  it  out.  It  seems  Dick 
has  written  some  paper  on  Geology,  and  has  had  an 
invitation  to  lecture  before  the  Linnaean  Society  in 
London  ;  and  he  has  been  away  from  Heidelberg  for 
months,  lecturing  and  exploring.  He  has  not  had  any  of 
Cousin  Deb's  letters,  apparently,  for  he  has  not  heard 
any  thing  in  connection  with  us.  But  here  is  the  letter  ; 
I  brought  it  for  thee  to  read." 

Dorothea  took  the  letter,  opened  it  and  read  it  through 


UNDER   THE  NEW    RULE.  169 

eagerly,  laying  it  down  upon  her  lap  with  a  sigh  of  dis- 
appointment. 

"  It  is  the  letter  of  an  enthusiast,  a  scholar.  It  almost 
seems  like  poetic  justice  for  Henry's  son  to  become  a 
scientist,  for  he  was  always  interested  in  such  things 
himself  and  had  made  a  collection  of  all  sorts  of  stones, 
arrow-heads  and  pressed  flowers.  I  have  often  wondered 
what  became  of  that  collection.  It  is  evident  from 
Richard's  letter  that  he  must  be  held  in  high  esteem  by 
many  of  the  German  scientific  men.  He  will  become,  if 
he  is  not  already,  a  distinguished  man.  But  there  is  not 
one  word  of  returning  to  his  own  country,  and  only  a 
message  of  love  to  me.  It  was  just  as  I  told  him  long 
ago  it  would  be  ;  the  tie  is  kept  only  in  my  heart." 

"  Oh,  well,  mother,  it  is  not  as  if  we  had  learned  to 
depend  on  Dick  and  then  been  deprived  of  him.  We 
can  do  very  well  without  him,  and  we  shall  undoubtedly 
be  proud  of  him  some  day.  But  I 'must  go  and  change 
my  habit.  Evan  is  coming  to  tea,  and  we  are  going  to 
read  afterwards."  And  she  entered  the  house  to  make 
the  necessary  toilet. 

Two  days  later  all  was  bustle  and  life  on  the  old  farm. 
All  day  long  the  steady  whirr  of  the  engine  kept  up,  and 
above  it  at  times  the  shouts  of  the  men  could  be  heard. 
Higher  and  higher  rose  the  pile  of  straw,  and  steadily 
the  little  stream  of  golden  grain  poured  out,  each  bushel 
being  registered  before  it  was  gathered  up,  tied  in  its  bag, 
and  tossed  into  a  cart.  All  day  the  wagons  hauled  the 


170  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

wheat  from  the  field  to  the  machine,  and  all  day  the  big 
hogshead  mounted  on  wheels  carried  water  to  the  engine. 
From  the  house  savory  odors  were  borne  out  on  the 
summer  air.  Deborah,  with  big  apron  and  sleeves  rolled 
up  above  her  elbows,  plied  back  and  forth  between  the 
kitchen,  pantry  and  dining-room.  Dorothea  had  been 
wheeled  into  the  inner  kitchen,  where  she  diligently 
pared  apples  for  the  men's  pies,  or  prepared  the  vege- 
tables and  daintier  things  for  the  house  table.  Robin, 
with  her  face  covered  with  the  dust  and  smoke  from  the 
engine,  seemed  to  be  everywhere  at  once,  though  Jared 
with  his  older  experience  was  the  leading  spirit  of  the 
day.  He  was  director  and  general  in  command.  His 
face  and  arms  were  as  black  as  the  shining  faces  of  the 
negroes  about  him.  During  the  day  several  young  farm- 
ers, whose  threshing  was  done,  or  who  were  waiting  their 
turn  for  the  engine,  lounged  about  to  see  how  things 
were  progressing.  Captain  Esten  rode  over,  hitched  his 
horse,  and  asked  in  his  loud,  hearty  voice  : 

"  Well,  how 's  the  young  farmer  ?  My  eye  !  but  you 
are  as  energetic  here  as  in  the  saddle.  How  much  wheat 
are  you  going  to  have  ? " 

"  I  think  about  eight  or  nine  hundred  bushels." 

"  Is  that  all  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  you  know,  Captain,  the  farm  has  run  behind  : 
but  next  year  I  am  going  to  put  more  land  in  wheat,  and 
I  am  going  to  fertilize  heavily,  and  I  hope  to  have  a 
larger  crop." 


UNDER  THE  NEW   RULE.  J/I 

"  I  '11  bet  you  '11  have  more  wheat  than  any  of  us  old 
dogs,  and  that  you  '11  turn  out  the  model  farmer  of  the 
neighborhood.  Will  you  get  through  threshing  to-day  ?  " 

"  I  hope  so,  but  if  not  we  shall  finish  before  noon  to- 
morrow." 

"  By  the  way,  Miss  Robin,  when  can  you  go  fox-hunt- 
ing ?  these  moonlight  nights  are  superb."  There  was 
silence  for  a  few  moments  ;  then  Robin  replied  gravely  : 

"  Captain,  I  do  not  feel  that  I  can  join  you.  I  have 
not  felt  that  I  could  chase  a  fox  with  any  heart.  The 
last  hunt,  father  was  with  me,  and " 

"  I  understand,  dear  child  "  ;  and  the  Captain  laid  his 
big  hand  gently  over  one  of  Robin's.  Just  then  Kane 
came  hobbling  up  and  said  : 

"  Miss  Rob,  look  yere  a  minute,  please."  And  thus 
called  away,  the  girl  walked  off  with  Kane,  to  consult 
about  some  slight  hitch  in  the  work. 

The  day  passed  and  the  sun  went  down,  to  rise  again 
upon  another  busy  morning  of  threshing.  But  by  eleven 
o'clock  every  thing  was  over,  the  machine  and  men  dis- 
appeared, and  all  was  quiet  again  at  Airlie. 

A  week  or  two  passed  before  Robin  found  time  to  try 
her  hand  on  the  young  colt  which  she  had  planned  so 
long  to  break.  She  remembered  the  time,  years  ago, 
when  she  had  seen  Dick  break  Comanche,  and  the  pic- 
ture of  him  as  she  recalled  it,  sitting  astride  the  wild, 
plunging  creature  with  knees  pressed  into  its  sides,  the 
sun  shining  on  his  uncovered  head.  She  remembered 


1/2  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

how  her  childish  heart  had  thrilled  at  the  sight,  and  she 
smiled  to  herself  to  think  how  vastly  different  the  work 
before  her  would  be,  and  how  different  the  methods  em- 
ployed by  a  man  and  those  a  woman  used  to  accomplish 
the  same  thing.  Of  course  she  knew  she  never  could 
cope  with  a  wild  creature,  such  as  Comanche  had  been  ; 
that  she  had  not  the  physical  strength  to  handle  such  an 
animal ;  but  if  Comanche  had  been  daily  accustomed  to 
the  approach  of  his  master  from  the  time  he  was  taken 
away  from  his  dam,  would  he  have  been  the  wild,  un- 
tamed creature  which  Dick  had  to  conquer  by  brute 
force  ?  Would  not  he  have  been  as  gentle  and  easy  to 
manage  as  she  felt  sure  her  own  colts  would  prove? 
After  all,  was  there  not  a  force  in  the  world  as  potent  as 
that  rude,  rough,  over-riding  power  that  men  wield  ?  she 
asked  herself.  And  she  leaned  upon  the  gate  that  sep- 
arated her  from  the  field  in  which  the  young  three-year- 
old  was  grazing.  She  gazed  at  him  admiringly  and  knew 
it  would  not  be  long  before  she  would  be  upon  his  back. 
She  entered  the  field  and  gave  several  low  cries.  As  the 
young  creature  trotted  up  with  two  or  three  whinnies, 
Robin  drew  from  her  pocket  several  lumps  of  sugar, 
which  he  took  from  her  hand  without  the  slightest  hesi- 
tancy, she  stroking  him  the  while,  and  uttering  soft,  en- 
dearing names.  Then  he  allowed  her  to  lead  him  all 
about  the  field  by  his  forelock,  and  even  stood  patiently 
while  she  put  a  halter  upon  him,  which  she  had  carried 
over  her  arm.  She  then  walked  away  a  few  paces  and 
he  followed,  whinnying  for  more  sugar.  At  last  she 


UNDER  THE  NEW  RULE.          173 

leaned  her  arm  and  weight  across  his  back,  he  only  toss- 
ing his  head  a  little,  she  stroking  him  all  the  time  with 
her  other  hand.  In  a  moment,  with  a  spring  she  was 
sitting  erect  upon  his  back.  The  unaccustomed  weight 
was  a  little  more  than  even  his  nature  could  brook.  He 
tried  several  vigorous  shakes  and  tossed  his  head  high  in 
the  air,  but  the  object  was  immovable.  With  one  hand 
Robin  held  fast  to  his  mane,  with  the  other  she  stroked 
his  arching  neck,  speaking  to  him  all  the  time  in  gentle 
tones.  After  backing  with  her,  and  trying  to  rub  her 
off  against  a  tree,  he  finally  stood  perfectly  still,  ap- 
parently resigned  to  the  inevitable.  Then  it  was  that 
she  began  to  urge  him  to  move.  He  trotted  a  few  steps, 
stopped  and  considered,  then  suddenly  started  off  in  full 
gallop.  It  was  by  no  means  easy  to  keep  her  seat  on  his 
slippery  back,  but  Robin  had  not  ridden  all  her  life  in 
vain.  As  they  tore  round  the  field,  she  caught  a  sudden 
glimpse  of  Jared  running  towards  her  at  full  speed,  with 
Kane  hobbling  along  behind,  both  evidently  expecting 
to  see  her  thrown.  But  as  suddenly  as  he  had  started 
the  colt  stopped,  and  Robin  found  herself  still  on  his 
back  and  little  the  worse  for  the  hard  gallop.  She  sat 
still  a  moment,  then  lightly  jumped  down  and  handed 
out  a  rewarding  lump  of  sugar.  Jared,  seeing  her  safe 
on  her  feet,  paused  and  leaned  against  the  fence,  where 
Kane  soon  joined  him. 

"  'Deed,  Miss  Rob,  you  rode  splendid.  I  wish  Mister 
Gilbert  could  seen  you." 

"  I  never  had  a  better  ride  in  my  life,  Kane.     When 


174  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

he  's  had  more  experience  he  '11  have  a  fine  gait.  Will 
you  go  and  bring  me  the  saddle  and  bridle,  please  ?  " 

"  Robin,  has  not  thee  had  enough  for  to-day  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  Jared  ;  I  must  strike  while  the  iron  is 
hot." 

"  Thee  is  lucky  to  have  so  gentle  a  creature  to  deal 
with  ;  if  he  'd  been  like  some  horses  I  Ve  seen  thee 
would  have  been  thrown  long  ago." 

"  But  thee  forgets,  Jared,  I  've  been  gradually  prepar- 
ing him  for  nearly  three  years  for  this  very  day,  and 
behold  the  result.  It  is  not  because  he  is  so  innately 
gentle,  for  he  comes  of  a  fiery  race.  Thee  will  find  the 
other  colt  gentle,  too,  for  I  have  taken  the  same  pains 
with  him.  And  I  think  my  method  better  than  thine." 

"  How  so  ?  " 

"  Thee  would  have  conquered  by  brute  force  alone ; 
I  have  conquered  by  persistence  and  love."  As  she 
spoke  she  glanced  at  him  as  he  still  leaned  against  the 
fence.  The  expression  which  came  over  his  face  held 
her  spellbound.  It  was  an  unguarded  moment  for 
Jared  ;  he  spoke  slowly  and  softly  : 

"  I  do  not  know  that  persistence  and  love  always  con- 
quer ;  I  have  not  found  it  so." 

He  paused.  There  was  a  dangerous  flash  from  his 
eyes,  which  changed  and  softened  to  one  of  passionate 
pleading  as  he  met  Robin's  steady  gaze.  For  a  moment 
they  faced  each  other ;  then  Jared  recalled  himself, 
the  softness  died  out  of  his  face,  giving  place  to 


UNDER   THE   NEW    RULE.  175 

a  stern,  resolute  look.  He  pulled  his  hat  down  over  his 
eyes  and  strode  away,  just  as  Kane  came  back  with 
saddle  and  bridle. 

Robin  still  stared  after  him,  and  even  Kane  turned  an 
inquiring  look  upon  the  retreating  figure,  which  soon 
disappeared  round  an  angle  of  the  house  and  was  lost  to 
view.  Then  the  young  mistress  turned  again  to  the  colt 
and  commenced  putting  on  the  bridle. 

"  'Deed,  Miss  Rob,  you  's  puttin'  that  bridle  on  very 
quare." 

"  So  I  am,  Kane  ;  there,  that  is  better.  No,  I  do  not 
want  the  martingale." 

The  rest  of  her  experiences  with  the  young  horse  were 
of  a  more  spirited  nature,  but  at  last  the  lesson  was  over, 
and  she  went  slowly  to  the  house,  pondering  over  Jared's 
words. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

JARED    COMES   "  WITHIN    THE    MEASURE    OF    WRATH." 

HP  HE  hours  that  followed  Jared's  rash  betrayal  of  the 
morning  were  troubled  arid  uneasy  ones  for  the 
two  young  people  on  the  farm.  Robin  was  wretched 
and  uncomfortable.  The  very  thing  she  had  dimly  fore- 
seen and  feared  had  come  to  pass  ;  all  her  misgivings, 
which  had  been  lulled  to  sleep  by  Jared's  seeming  un- 
concern, were  startled  into  life  by  the  unguarded  words 
that  had  fallen  from  his  lips.  There  could  be  no  mis- 
taking what  he  had  partly  given  utterance  to,  and  there 
was  no  mistaking  the  look  of  unutterable  love  that  had 
flashed  over  his  face  as  she  stood  and  looked  at  him. 
What  could  she  do  ?  how  get  away  from  facing  his  un- 
welcome love  ?  She  might  dismiss  him,  but  upon  what 
ground  ?  He  had  not  declared  himself,  he  had  not 
asked  any  thing  of  her.  She  went  over  and  over  the 
words  he  had  partly  spoken,  their  tone,  their  accompany- 
ing expression.  She  had  gone  silently  and  with  lagging 
step  into  the  house  to  ponder  over  it  and  to  decide  what 
she  must  do  ;  but  she  could  find  no  light  anywhere. 

176 


"  WITHIN   THE    MEASURE   OF   WRATH."         I// 

She  knew  she  was  in  no  way  to  blame  ;  she  had  never 
shown  him  any  thing  but  kindly  consideration.  Surely 
he  could  never  have  fancied  that  because  they  had  been 
thrown  together  day  after  day,  and  had  worked  side  by 
side,  she  felt  any  thing  more  for  him  than  friendly 
interest  ?  She  then  recalled  with  a  pang  the  many  kind- 
nesses Jared  had  shown  them  :  his  help  at  the  time  of 
her  father's  death,  his  devotion  to  her  mother  since,  and 
her  mother's  very  evident  respect  and  liking  for  him. 
She  asked  herself  if  it  would  ever  be  possible  to  care  for 
him,  and  emphatically  came  the  answer  ringing  through 
her  heart  and  brain,  "  never." 

Dinner  passed  in  silence  and  the  afternoon  wore  away 
slowly.  The  hour  for  the  evening  meal  came.  The 
table,  with  its  bright,  soft  lamp-light,  its  handful  of 
bright  geraniums,  looked  cheerful  in  the  approaching 
twilight  of  the  August  day.  Robin,  dressed  in  a  soft 
muslin  gown,  was  leaning  upon  the  railing  of  the  porch. 
The  afternoon  had  brought  no  relief  to  her  disturbed 
mind  ;  there  was  a  troubled  look  in  her  deep,  expressive 
eyes  which  would  not  fail  to  attract  her  mother's  attention. 

"  Come,  daughter,"  Dorothea  called  from  the  dining- 
room,  where  she  was  already  seated  at  the  table.  Robin 
turned  at  her  mother's  call  as  if  loath  to  leave  the  silence 
and  fast-gathering  twilight  of  the  porch.  She  turned 
lingeringly  and  entered  the  dining-room.  The  lamp- 
light fell  full  upon  her  face,  and  her  mother  instantly 

exclaimed  : 
12 


178  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

"  Thee  is  as  white  as  a  ghost,  child  ;  is  thee  not 
well  ?  " 

"  It  is  nothing,  mother  ;  I  believe  the  colt  tired  me  this 
morning,  that  is  all." 

"  Where  is  Jared  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  ;  he  is  probably  only  late  in  coming  in 
to-night."  Dorothea  turned  to  Joppa. 

"  Go  to  Mr.  Jared's  door  and  see  if  he  is  in  his  room  ; 
tell  him  supper  is  ready  ;  if  he  is  not  there,  ring  the  bell 
for  him  from  the  end  of  the  porch." 

It  was  soon  made  evident  that  Jared  was  not  in  the 
house,  for  the  clear  tones  of  the  bell  rang  out  in  the  even- 
ing air,  but  they  did  not  bring  him,  and  the  two  women 
were  left  to  finish  supper  alone.  Dorothea  lingered  at 
the  table  a  long  time  in  the  hope  that  he  would  come, 
then  finally  gave  orders  for  them  to  keep  supper  for  him. 
The  short  summer  evening  grew  late.  Finally  Dorothea, 
who  had  glanced  repeatedly  at  the  clock,  said  : 

"When  did  thee  last  see  Jared,  Robin  ?  " 

"  Not  since  dinner,  mother." 

"  Did  he  say  any  thing  about  having  any  business  that 
would  call  him  away  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  do  not  think  I  spoke  with  him  at  dinner." 

"  It  is  very  strange,"  continued  Dorothea  ;  "  I  never 
knew  him  to  stay  away  so  long  without  telling  us.  I  hope 
nothing  is  amiss.  He  has  not  seemed  like  himself  all 
day  ;  I  thought  he  was  almost  irritable  at  dinner.  " 

Robin,   seeing  how   really   anxious  and    restless  her 


"  WITHIN   THE   MEASURE   OF   WRATH."        1/9 

mother  was  and  how  often  she  glanced  at  the  clock,  rose 
and  went  to  the  back  porch  where  the  three  farm  hands 
were  smoking. 

"  Kane,  do  you  happen  to  know  where  Mr.  J  ared  went 
after  dinner  ?  " 

"  I  don'  think  he  wen'  any  w'eres,  miss  ;  his  horse  ain' 
been  out  o'  the  stable  but  ain'  nary  one  of  us  seen  'im." 

She  came  back  through  the  house  and  stood  on  the 
long,  silent  porch  gazing  out  into  the  night,  then  she 
went  down  the  steps,  and  down  the  lonely  lane,  glancing 
keenly  under  each  tree,  trying  to  pierce  the  darkness  and 
gloom,  but  all  was  silent.  She  lingered  by  the  roadside 
a  moment,  listening  intently  for  a  step,  then  turned  and 
went  swiftly  back  to  the  house.  From  there  she  went  to 
the  stables  and  barn.  At  the  stable  door  she  took  the 
lantern  down  from  its  hook,  lighted  it  and  went  round 
to  the  upper  door  of  the  barn  which  led  to  the  hay-loft. 
Just  what  impulse  led  her  to  the  barn  and  loft  she  could 
not  define.  She  stepped  softly  through  the  door  and 
flashed  the  light  about.  Almost  instantly  the  feeble  rays 
fell  upon  Jared  lying  prostrate,  his  face  buried  in  his 
arms.  His  attitude  was  one  of  weary  despair.  Robin 
could  not  tell  whether  he  was  asleep  or  feigned  it.  No 
sound  of  breathing  reached  her  keenly-strained  ear.  She 
dared  not  approach  nor  make  any  move,  for  she  felt  that 
she  was  looking  upon  him  in  his  hour  of  weakness,  at  a 
time  when  he  had  abandoned  himself  to  some  emotion, 
of  which  she  felt  sorrowfully  that  she  might  perhaps  be 


i8o  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

the  cause.  She  softly  drew  back  and  went  quietly  to  the 
house.  She  knew  it  would  be  a  great  relief  to  her  mother 
to  know  where  he  was.  She  said  to  the  men,  as  she  went 
to  the  back  porch  : 

"  One  of  you  had  better  go  to  the  barn  and  see  if  Mr. 
Jared  has  not  fallen  asleep  on  the  hay.  Wake  him,  if  he 
is  there,  and  then  shut  up  for  the  night."  She  went  into 
the  sitting-room  and  said  cheerfully  :  "  I  have  sent  one 
of  the  men  to  look  for  Jared  in  the  hay-loft ;  he  may  be 
asleep  there." 

In  a  few  moments  Jared's  quick,  firm  step  was  heard  on 
the  porch,  and  he  appeared  almost  instantly  in  the  door- 
way. His  face  was  stern,  almost  haggard,  and  strangely 
pale.  He  looked  like  a  man  who  had  been  through  some 
conflict  and  had  made  up  his  mind  to  bear  the  result  with 
set  teeth. 

Dorothea  looked  at  him  intently,  then  said  : 

"  Thee  is  ill,  Jajed." 

"  No,  Cousin  Dorothea  ;  I  was  rather  more  tired  than 
usual  this  afternoon  and  I  fell  asleep  in  the  loft  just  be- 
fore supper."  He  shot  a  keen  glance  across  at  Robin ; 
then  he  added  abruptly  :  "  Good-night."  He  turned  on 
his  heel  and  left  them,  giving  them  no  time  to  think  of 
the  untasted  supper.  They  listened  to  his  footsteps 
down  the  passage  and  up  the  stairs  before  either  spoke. 

"  Something  is  certainly  the  matter  with  Jared  ;  did 
not  thee  notice  how  strange  he  looked,  daughter  ?  " 

"  I  think  Jared  has  been  working  too  hard  ;  he  looks 


"WITHIN   THE   MEASURE   OF   WRATH."        l8l 

pale.  I  think  perhaps,  mother,  it  might  do  him  good  for 
thee  to  talk  to  him  in  thy  own  sweet  way.  Tell  him  if  he 
finds  the  work  here  not  just  what  he  expected,  or  if  he 
thinks  he  has  made  a  mistake  in  coming  here,  we  do  not 
want  him  to  feel  bound  to  remain." 

"  I  will,  daughter  ;  but  might  he  not  think  perhaps 
I  was  conveying  a  hint  ?  " 

"  Not  if  it  comes  from  thee.  He  may  feel  dissatisfied 
in  some  way,  and  he  would  tell  thee  when  he  might  per- 
haps not  speak  of  it  to  me." 

"  Very  well,  daughter,  I  will  talk  to  him." 

Robin  felt  that  she  might  thus  give  Jared  a  chance  of 
severing  his  agreement  with  them  at  Airlie,  without 
herself  appearing  in  the  matter  and  without  any  wound 
to  his  dignity.  Perhaps  he  might  really  wish  to  go  of 
his  own  accord  and  dislike  to  make  any  move  in  that 
direction  at  that  time  of  the  year,  with  the  fall  work 
looming  up  in  the  near  future.  Dorothea  did  broach 
the  subject  to  Jared,  in  her  delicate  way.  He  instantly 
took  fire  at  her  first  word,  and  said  bluntly  : 

"If  thee  is  dissatisfied  with  me,  or  if  thee  finds  me 
useless,  Cousin  Dorothea,  say  the  word  and  I  'm  off." 

It  required  all  the  tact  Dorothea  possessed  to  put  the 
matter  right.  She  talked  long  and  earnestly  to  him,  as  a 
mother  might  have  talked  to  a  son. 

The  next  few  days  were  trying  for  them  all  at  Airlie. 
Jared  seemed  utterly  unlike  himself ;  he  scarcely  spoke 
at  the  table  and  hurried  away  before  the  two  women 


1 82  GILBERT   ELGAR*S    SON. 

had  finished.  He  worked  incessantly,  early  and  late. 
He  commenced  the  clearing  of  the  triangular  land 
beyond  the  ice-pond,  and  it  was  long  past  their  tea  hour 
every  night  when  he  came  in.  He  would  eat  a  hasty 
supper,  take  a  silent  smoke  in  a  grim  way,  and  then  dis- 
appear for  the  night.  Robin  was  worried  by  his  manner. 
She  felt  sure  that  he  recognized  the  hopelessness  of 
his  passion,  and  that  he  was  repenting  of  his  un- 
guarded words.  But  she  could  offer  no  remedy  for 
the  situation,  nor  could  she  make  any  explanation  of  his 
behavior  to  her  mother.  And  the  girl  began  to  feel  an 
irritation  as  his  manner  day  by  day  became  more 
brusque,  until  it  was  well-nigh  unbearable.  She  saw 
her  mother  follow  him  with  her  eyes  continually,  in  a 
perplexed  way,  and  then  turn  them  wistfully  upon 
herself  as  if  seeking  the  solution  in  her.  Robin 
knew  that  her  mother  had  begun  to  fathom  Jared's 
secret,  but  she  could  not  betray  him  even  to  her,  and 
the  situation  became  each  day  more  awkward  to  the 
three. 

August  slipped  by,  and  part  of  September.  The 
autumn  work  was  in  progress :  ploughing  for  wheat, 
corn-cutting  and  husking  passed.  Two  or  three  fresh 
cows  for  the  dairy  were  bought,  and  the  market-wagon 
began  its  regular  weekly  trips  to  town,  with  butter, 
eggs,  turkeys  and  other  farm-produce.  One  early,  cold 
morning  in  November  the  hay-wagon,  loaded  to  its 
uttermost  and  drawn  by  five  fine  work-horses,  with  bits 


"  WITHIN   THE   MEASURE   OF   WRATH."        183 

of  scarlet  flannel  tied  in  their  bridles  and  braided  in 
their  manes,  was  ready  to  start  for  town,  with  Saunders 
as  wagoner.  Jared  was  in  the  market-wagon  also  ready 
to  start.  He  had  already  made  one  or  two  ineffectual 
attempts  to  get  off,  when  Robin  hurried  out  of  the 
house  and  called  to  him  to  stop.  Jared  drew  in  his 
horses,  while  a  dark  frown  settled  upon  his  face. 

"  Wait,  Jared  ;  I  have  a  list  of  things  I  want  from 
town." 

"  Confound  it  all,"  muttered  Jared  under  his  breath, 
and  then  in  a  rough  voice  he  said  aloud  :  "  Be  quick 
then  ;  just  like  a  woman  never  to  think  of  any  thing  till 
the  last  moment.  Does  thee  suppose  I  can  wait  here  all 
night  ? " 

Robin  was  transfixed.  She  wondered  if  she  had 
heard  aright.  Was  it  Jared  who  had  spoken  to  her  in 
this  masterful,  rude  way  ?  was  it  he  who  sat  scowling  at 
her  in  the  wagon  ?  She  turned  to  Saunders,  who  was 
still  waiting  to  start,  and  said  : 

"  Drive  on,  Saunders."  As  soon  as  the  hay-wagon 
moved,  she  turned  to  Jared  and  said  quietly,  and  with 
dignity  :  "  Thee  forgets  thyself,  Jared  ;  I  do  not  merit 
such  a  rough  speech  from  thee."  Then  with  gathering 
fire  and  a  flash  of  sudden  anger  she  added  :  "  Thee 
must  bear  in  mind  that  thee  is  not  master  at  Airlie,  and 
that  I  will  not  tolerate  a  rude  speech  from  any  of  my 
hands."  She  turned  and  hurried  to  the  house,  lest  she 
should  say  more. 


1 84  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

Jared  started  the  wagon,  and  as  he  turned  out  of  the 
lane  to  the  pike  he  muttered  between  his  teeth  : 

"  Fool !  madman  !  my  accursed  temper  has  ruined 
me.  I  must  needs  add  to  my  driveling  of  the  other  day 
a  display  of  ill-temper  any  brute  would  be  ashamed  of." 
He  savagely  shut  his  teeth  together  and  drove  for  the 
next  mile  or  two  as  if  pursued  by  demons. 

That  night  when  he  returned  from  town,  Dorothea 
alone  was  waiting  to  give  him  his  supper.  He  glanced 
anxiously  around,  then  asked  : 

"  Where  is  Robin  ?  " 

"  She  walked  to  Airlie  for  the  mail." 

Jared  rose  hastily,  saying  : 

"  I  will  meet  her ;  it  is  very  dark,  and  too  late  for  her 
to  be  out  alone." 

He  hastened  toward  the  village,  but  had  barely 
reached  the  foot  of  the  lane  when  he  discovered  her  tall 
figure  standing  motionless  by  the  hedge,  with  Adsum 
close  at  her  side.  He  strode  rapidly  toward  her.  When 
near  enough  for  her  to  distinguish  him,  he  said  in  a 
grave,  earnest  voice  : 

"  Will  thee  hear  me  a  moment  ? "  As  he  spoke  he 
bared  his  head  in  the  keen  night  air. 

"  Yes,  Jared,"  she  replied,  gravely. 

"  I  behaved  like  a  brute  this  morning,  and  my  conduct 
for  weeks  has  perhaps  forfeited  any  right  to  be  listened 
to  or  pardoned.  I  have  met  with  nothing  but  kindness 
from  thee,  and  I  have  requited  it  in  a  way  that  makes 


"WITHIN   THE   MEASURE   OF  WRATH."        185 

me  blush  as  a  man.  Thee  has  good  reason  for  not 
tolerating  me  any  longer  at  Airlie,  but  I  ask  thee  to  for- 
give me,  and  show  that  forgiveness  by  allowing  me  to 
remain  where  I  have  had  the  only  home  I  have  ever 
known  in  all  my  life.  I  will  never  knowingly  offend 
thee  again." 

"  Thee  will  not  find  me  unforgiving  or  ungenerous 
after  such  a  full  acknowledgment  of  thy  words  of  this 
morning,  Jared."  And  she  put  out  her  hand  towards 
him  as  a  token  of  forgiveness.  But  she  sighed  inwardly, 
for  she  felt  that  it  was  but  a  truce,  and  that  outbursts  of 
temper  were  too  much  a  habit  with  Jared  to  be  put  aside 
permanently. 

Jared  took  her  hand  and  held  it  a  moment,  while  he 
tried  to  read  her  face  in  the  darkness  ;  then  he  gently 
raised  it  to  his  lips,  and  the  two  went  in  silence  to  the 
house. 

When  they  entered  the  sitting-room  Dorothea  looked 
quickly  from  one  face  to  the  other,  and  noting  the  gravity 
of  both  she  sighed,  as  if  she  had  hoped  to  read  some 
glad  tale  of  love  given  and  accepted. 

For  the  few  days  following  Jared  seemed  subdued, 
and  almost  stern  ;  but  gradually  he  resumed  the  cheerful 
manner  of  his  earlier  days  at  Airlie.  He  was  like  a  good 
comrade  towards  Robin  ;  he  aided  her  in  all  her  under- 
takings, and  supplemented  her  in  all  her  efforts  with  a 
self-effacement  that  brought  peace  and  a  temporary 
sense  of  security  to  the  girl.  Towards  Dorothea  he  was 


i  &6  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

devoted  and  thoughtful,  as  he  had  ever  been,  and  the 
mother's  anxious  heart  was  at  rest.  She  felt  that  it 
would  all  come  right ;  Jared  had  been  perhaps  rather 
brusque  and  surly,  but  if  he  was  in  love  that  would 
account  for  it  perhaps  ;  men  were  never  even  in  temper 
nor  like  themselves  when  any  thing  unusual  was  the  mat- 
ter with  them,  she  reflected.  But  she  sighed  for  her 
daughter. 

The  early  winter  days  which  followed  were  the  bright- 
est and  most  peaceful  that  had  fallen  upon  the  farm  since 
Gilbert's  death.  Mother  and  daughter  both  felt  the 
influence  of  them,  though  Robin  knew  that  it  would 
never  do  to  lull  herself  into  forgetfulness.  She  had 
learned  to  know  Jared  thoroughly  in  the  months  that  he 
had  been  under  their  roof,  and  she  felt  sure  that  under 
his  seeming  cheerful  good-comradeship  a  fire  lay 
smouldering,  which  only  waited  to  break  forth  again  into 
a  blaze  that  might  prove  a  conflagration  to  her,  and  to 
all  of  them  on  the  farm.  So,  with  an  armed  truce,  be- 
tween love  held  in  check  with  an  iron  will  on  the  one 
hand,  and  a  woman's  heart  doubly  guarded  by  indiffer- 
ence on  the  other,  the  winter  months  wore  away. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

AWAY    FROM    HOME    FOR    NEWS. 

away  in  another  land  the  bright  April  sun  was 
shining.  A  traveller  stood  in  the  Kaiser-Strasse, 
Frankfort.  From  the  uncertain  way  in  which  he  walked 
a  few  paces,  then  turned  and  paused,  it  was  evident  he 
was  very  undecided  which  way  to  bend  his  steps.  At 
last,  as  if  determined  to  come  to  some  conclusion,  he 
pulled  a  coin  from  his  pocket,  tossed  it,  looked  intently 
at  it,  then  as«  if  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  abide  by 
the  result,  he  hurried  to  the  Main-Neckar  Station  and 
jumped  into  a  second-class  carriage  which  was  just 
about  to  pull  out  for  Darmstadt,  Heidelberg  and  Mann- 
heim. It  was  Standish.  He  had  spent  all  the  early 
morning  trying  to  decide  whether  he  would  go  to  Hom- 
burg,  spend  a  couple  of  days  in  seeing  the  Taunus  with 
its  great  Feldberg,  or  leave  it  out  and  go  instead  to 
Heidelberg  and  Mannheim.  He  had  been  lazily  indif- 
ferent as  to  which  direction  he  should  take,  and  thus  the 
chance  throw  of  the  coin  committed  him  to  go  south 
instead  of  north. 

187 


1 88  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

Standish  had  spent  the  autumn  in  Paris  and  the 
winter  in  Rome  ;  had  made  his  way  idly  back  to  Paris 
in  the  early  spring,  whence  he  had  gone  to  Brussels,  and 
now  was  bent  upon  doing  the  Rhine.  His  whole  line  of 
travel  had  been  characteristic  of  him,  and  was  marked 
by  a  certain  indifference  as  to  where  he  should  go  or 
what  he  should  see  when  there.  Had  the  coin  directed 
him  north  instead  of  south,  he  would  have  been  just  as 
well  satisfied.  He  knew  no  German,  save  a  few  words. 
It  had  been  awkward  for  him  on  more  than  one  occa- 
sion, when  he  had  suddenly  found  himself  at  the  end  of 
his  stock  of  phrases.  He  could  ask  for  a  "  Weinkarte  " 
at  the  table-fThfitt,  or  a  "  Postkarte  "  at  the  post-office, 
and  he  knew  that  "bitte"  meant  "please."  But  there 
came  times  occasionally  when  he  could  neither  under- 
stand nor  be  understood  ;  then  he  would  have  recourse 
to  French,  and  that  failing  a  few  forcible  Expressions  in 
his  vernacular  generally  produced  plain  sailing  for  a 
time. 

The  journey  between  Frankfort  and  Darmstadt  was  a 
short  one,  and  the  country  lying  between  unattractive. 
Somehow,  on  reaching  Darmstadt  he  concluded  not  to 
stop.  This  time  he  seemed  to  have  no  difficulty  in  mak- 
ing up  his  mind  ;  he  continued  his  journey  to  Heidelberg, 
where  he  thought  he  might  stay  a  day,  or  perhaps  two, 
take  in  the  Schloss  and  the  University  buildings,  walk 
about  the  town,  explore  the  beautiful  Neckar-Thal,  and 
then  go  on,  either  to  Strasburg  or  Stuttgart,  it  made  little 


AWAY   FROM   HOME   FOR   NEWS.  189 

difference  which.  Arrived  at  Heidelberg,  he  scorned  the 
cabs  at  the  station,  and  having  made  up  his  mind  to  avoid 
the  modern  hotels  that  gayly  flank  both  sides  of  the  An- 
lage  which  led  from  the  station,  he  turned  into  the 
Hauptstrasse  ;  with  the  intention  of  walking  its  length 
till  he  should  come  to  the  market-place,  where  he  knew 
would  be  found  the  Zum  Ritter,  one  of  the  old  inns 
of  the  town,  and  almost  the  only  house  in  Heidelberg 
that  escaped  destruction  during  the  burning  of  the  town 
by  the  French  two  hundred  years  before.  Only  a  few 
paces  from  the  Ritter  was  the  old  Neckkr  Bridge,  beyond 
which,  upon  the  other  side  of  the  river,  could  be  seen  the 
vineyards  along  the  slope  of  the  Heiligenberg.  To  the 
right  of  the  market-place  one  of  the  last  of  the  side- 
streets  connected  with  the  Burgweg,  which  led  up 
straight  to  the  great  balcony  and  court  of  the  Schloss, 
standing  grand  and  lofty  above  the  old  town,  the  most 
magnificent  ruin  in  all  Germany. 

Standish  reached  the  Ritter  and  was  soon  mounting  the 
time-worn  stone  steps  which  led  to  the  rooms  assigned 
him  in  the  top  of  the  house.  A  little  later  in  the  after- 
noon, when  he  took  his  place  at  the  table-cThdte,  it  was  to 
be  greeted  by  the  usual  courteous  "  Mahlzeit  "  from  the 
long  row  of  unknown  guests  who  lined  either  side  of  the 
table.  He  acknowledged  the  polite  greetings  of  his 
neighbors,  took  his  seat,  and  leisurely  began  studying 
the  faces  opposite  to  him,  faces  of  every  type  and 
nationality.  Finding  none  of  any  interest,  he  began  on 


190  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

his  soup.  A  moment  later  his  attention  was  attracted  by 
the  entrance  of  two  men,  evidently  very  much  absorbed 
in  a  conversation  carried  on  in  German  and  accompanied 
by  many  quick  gestures.  Standish  was  somehow  at- 
tracted by  them.  One  of  them  nodded  in  return  to 
several  salutations,  in  the  course  of  which  his  eyes  rested 
for  a  moment  upon  the.  face  of  the  new-comer.  Standish 
was  struck  by  the  appearance  of  the  man  and  the  glance 
that  was  directed  towards  him.  He  said  to  himself  : 

"  Where  the  deuce  have  I  seen  that  man  before  ?  his 
face  is  very  famiKar  to  me  "  ;  but  as  no  light  came  to 
assist  his  recollection  he  went  on  with  his  soup.  Once 
after  that  his  eye  caught  that  of  the  unknown,  half -famil- 
iar face  across  the  table  ;  but  it  was  only  to  assure  him- 
self that  it  was  no  one  he  had  ever  known  or  seen  before, 
and  it  must  be,  of  course,  only  a  chance  resemblance  to 
some  one.  "  But  to  whom  ? "  he  asked  himself. 

During  a  pause  in  the  dinner  he  fell  idly  to  speculating 
as  to  the  nationality  of  the  man.  He  satisfied  himself 
that  he  was  undoubtedly  German,  for  he  was  not  only 
thoroughly  German  in  accent,  but  also  German  in  appear- 
ance. What  a  splendid  physique  and  face  the  man  had  ; 
who  but  the  Germans  had  such  blonde  hair  and  beards, 
such  peculiarly  blue  eyes  and  ruddy  skin  ?  Having  satis- 
fied himself  as  to  the  nationality,  he  fell  to  wondering  to 
what  station  in  life,  what  class,  his  unknown  belonged. 
He  could  not  be  a  soldier,  although  a  long  scar  which  lay 
between  the  eye  and  ear  might  be  a  sabre  cut ;  he  could 


AWAY   FROM   HOME   FOR   NEWS.  IQI 

not  be  a  student,  and  he  was  decidedly  too  distinguished 
and  handsome  to  be  a  professor ;  perhaps  he  was  a 
baron  or  count,  and  had  gained  his  scar  in  a  duel. 
Finally  Standish  gave  up  altogether  speculating  about 
the  unknown  and  continued  his  dinner. 

Later  in  the  day  he  climbed  to  the  Schloss,  wandered 
through  a  part  of  the  vast  ruin,  took  in  the  magnificent 
view  of  the  town,  then  made  his  way  back  in  the  long 
twilight  by  the  Burgweg  to  the  old  Neckar  Bridge,  which 
he  crossed,  climbed  the  slope  through  the  vineyards  to 
the  Philosophenweg,  and  leisurely  strolled  along  this 
beautiful  walk,  stopping  now  and  then  to  gaze  upon  the 
exquisite  panorama  spread  at  his  feet  :  the  valley  of  the 
Neckar,  the  Schloss  overhanging  the  quaint  old  town, 
the  plain  of  the  Rhine,  the  Cathedral  of  Speyer,  with  a 
background  of  the  Haardt  Mountains  in  the  far  distance. 

"  Jove  !  I  never  saw  any  thing  finer,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. Then  observing  that  the  sun  had  disappeared,  he 
hastened  on  to  Neuenheim,  where  he  intended  to  take  his 
supper  in  one  of  the  famous  garden-restaurants  which 
the  students  frequent  so  much  ;  after  supper  he  would  go 
back  to  town  by  the  New  Bridge  and  bring  up  finally  at 
the  Ritter.  When  he  reached  Neuenheim  the  cool  April 
day  had  just  darkened  into  night,  and  the  lights  from 
the  Philosophenhoeh  gleamed  out  bright  and  cheerful  in 
the  chilly  air.  He  entered  the  main  room.  As  he 
casually  ran  his  eye  over  the  tables  they  all  seemed  to 
be  full.  He  walked  to  the  end  of  the  room  overlooking 


192  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

the  town,  only  to  discover  that  there  was  no  vacant 
table  anywhere  ;  ^  every  one  was  occupied,  presumably 
by  students,  drinking  from  clumsy  mugs.  He  turned  to 
walk  back,  when  a  gentleman  seeing  his  dilemma  rose 
from  a  seat  in  the  corner  near  the  window  and  made 
a  courteous  gesture  of  invitation  ;  Standish  bowed,  and 
as  he  approached  said  to  himself :  "  Here  's  a  go  ;  it 
is  my  great  unknown."  He  took  the  proffered  place  and 
began  to  search  his  memory  for  his  choicest  German  in 
which  to  express  his  thanks.  Great  was  his  astonish- 
ment when  the  German,  with  a  cordial  smile,  replied  in 
perfectly  pure  English  : 

"  I  assure  you  no  thanks  are  necessary ;  I  am  always 
glad  to  share  with  a  countryman." 

Standish  looked  amazed.  Could  this  foreign-looking 
man  be  an  American  ?  or  did  he  think  that  he,  Standish, 
was  a  German  ?  Seeing  his  amazement,  the  stranger 
quickly  said  : 

"  I  beg  pardon,  but  am  I  wrong  in  thinking  you  an 
American  ?  " 

"  No,  there  's  no  mistake  about  my  being  an  Ameri- 
can ;  but  you  must  pardon  my  astonishment  in  hearing 
you  claim  America  as  your  own  country."  And  Stand- 
ish looked  inquiringly  at  him  as  if  to  ask  :  "  Who  the 
devil  are  you  anyway  ?  " 

The  stranger  said,  in  answer  to  the  look  of  inqury : 

"  I  was  born  in  America,  but  I  have  not  lived  there  in 
several  years  ;  and  I  am  always  delighted  to  run  across 
any  of  my  own  countrymen." 


AWAY    FROM    HOME   FOR   NEWS.  193 

Here  the  conversation  just  begun  was  interrupted  by 
the  waiter  coming  for  orders  from  the  two  men.  The 
stranger  said  quickly,  turning  toward  Standish  : 

"I  beg  you  will  allow  me  to  do  the  honors  of  the 
place.  I  am  an  old  habituJ  here,  and  there  are  certain 
dishes  they  make  specialties  of."  He  paused  for  Stand- 
ish's  consent.  It  was  awkward,  but  he  could  do  no 
less  than  courteously  assent.  After  a  few  rapid  words 
in  German,  the  waiter  poured  out  mugs  of  beer  and  left 
them.  The  conversation  turned  upon  Heidelberg,  the 
beauties  of  the  Schloss  and  the  Neckar  valley.  Standish 
volunteered  the  information  that  he  was  travelling  rather 
without  method  ;  he  had  no  definite  plans  save  to  see 
something  of  Switzerland  and  get  back  to  London  in 
time  to  sail  for  home  in  June. 

All  during  the  conversation  and  the  supper  which  fol- 
lowed he  was  continually  haunted  by  the  fact  that  his 
companion  reminded  him  of  some  one  ;  but  he  could  not 
think  of  whom.  He  gazed  intently  at  him,  studied  every 
feature,  watched  every  gesture.  At  last  some  chance 
movement  revealed,  in  a  flash,  the  puzzling  reminder. 
There  rushed  back  upon  his  mind  the  picture  of  a  girl 
standing  in  a  hayfield,  with  a  rough  straw  hat  at  her  feet 
and  a  glowing  sunset  behind  her,  framing  her  in  golden 
light.  He  saw  it  all  again  :  the  hedge,  the  loaded 
wagon,  the  sturdy  horses,  the  soft,  waning  summer  day, 
and  the  woman's  figure  which  stood  out  from  all  else. 
With  a  movement  of  relief  that  he  had  been  able  at  last 

to  trace  the  resemblance,  he  settled  himself  back  in  his 
13 


194  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

chair,  becoming  conscious  at  the  same  time  that  he  had 
subjected  his  companion  to  rather  a  noticeable  scrutiny. 
He  found  himself  in  turn  gazed  at  in  surprise,  and  he 
said,  half-apologetically,  half-amusedly  : 

"  It  is  not  perhaps  very  good  form  to  trace  resem- 
blances, but  I  have  been  puzzled  ever  since  I  saw  you 
to-day  at  table-d 'hdte  by  a  strange  resemblance  to  some 
one  I  know  in  Maryland  ;  and  you  must  pardon  me  for 
having  spoken  of  it." 

"  Maryland,  did  you  say  ?  I  do  not  often  hear  it 
mentioned  ;  it  is  my  native  State." 

"  Indeed  ?  how  odd.  The  person  of  whom  I  am 
thinking  is  a  Quaker,  and  lives  in  a  very  quaint  neigh- 
borhood of  Friends.  It  struck  me  as  rather  unusual 
that  I  should  come  across  a  resemblance  to  her  upon 
this  side  of  the  world."  As  he  finished  speaking  his 
companion  leaned  forward  and  said  quickly  : 

"  I  was  born  in  that  very  same  neighborhood,  and  my 
name  is  Elgar." 

Standish  was  so  astonished  that  he  set  his  beer-mug 
down  with  a  rattle  upon  the  table,  leaned  back  in  his 
chair  and  simply  stared.  Then  he  broke  out  excitedly  : 

"  Elgar,  you  say  !  By  Jove  !  it  is  a  Miss  Elgar  of 
whom  you  remind  me.  Can  you  be  related  to  her  ? " 

"  She  is  my  cousin.  She  and  her  mother  are  almost 
the  only-  kinspeople  I  have.  It  is  years  since  I  have 
seen  them."  Then  as  Standish  did  not  speak,  so  over- 
come was  he  with  amazement,  Dick  went  on  : 


AWAY   FROM   HOME   FOR   NEWS.  195 

"  It  is  a  strange  coincidence  that  we  should  have 
been  thrown  together,  and  I  hope  you  will  tell  me  all 
you  can  about  them,  for  I  have  heard  very  little  from 
them,  and  it  is  only  comparatively  recently  that  I  have 
heard  of  my  uncle's  death." 

"  By  George,  it  's  the  most  remarkable  thing  I  ever 
had  happen  :  that  I  should  come  across  you,  a  stranger 
in  a  strange  land,  and  have  been  struck  with  your 
resemblance  to  your  own  cousin,  whom  I  saw  almost  the 
last  thing  before  I  left  America." 

Dick  sat  with  slightly  bent  head  and  gazed  attentively 
at  Standish,  who  had  spoken  with  considerable  excite- 
ment ;  then  as  he  was  about  to  speak,  Standish  be- 
thought himself  ;  he  pulled  out  a  card-case  and  handed  a 
card  across  the  table  to  his  companion,  who  bowed  his 
head  in  thanks.  Dick  then  said : 

"  Mr.  Standish,  suppose  we  walk  back  to  the  Ritter  ? 
I  should  very  much  like  to  hear  about  my  cousins,  and  it 
is  evident  you  know  them  quite  well,  and  are  perhaps  on 
a  familiar  footing  at  Airlie  ?  " 

He  spoke  inquiringly.  A  slight  flush  rose  to  Stand- 
ish's  face,  as  he  replied  : 

"  No,  Mr.  Elgar,  I  cannot  claim  any  familiar  footing 
at  Airlie.  I  should  feel  honored  to  be  so  privileged,  but 
I  have  only  known  Miss  Elgar  and  her  mother  through 
the  Estens,  whose  place  adjoins  Airlie.  You  know  them, 
perhaps  ?  " 

"  Esten  ? "  repeated   Dick,  as  if  trying  to  recall  the 


196  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

name,  "  no,  I  never  heard  of  them  ;  the  name  is  quite 
new  to  me.  With  your  permission  we  will  go  to  my 
rooms  where  we  can  talk  undisturbed.  There  is  much  I 
am  anxious  to  hear." 

The  two  men  rose,  left  the  Philosophenhoeh  and 
walked  back  over  the  new  bridge.  When  they  were 
upon  the  other  side  Dick  called  a  cab,  as  if  anxious  to 
hurry  to  the  news  which  awaited  him.  As  they  rattled 
over  the  rough  streets,  Standish  began  to  recall  scraps 
of  gossip  let  fall  at  The  Hatch  at  the  time  of  Gilbert 
Elgar's  death.  This,  then,  was  the  "  Cousin  Dick  "  who 
was  rich,  who  owned  Ivanwold,  who  eschewed  his  own 
country,  and  who  had  practically  turned  a  deaf  ear  to 
the  distressing  circumstances  of  his  two  helpless  rela- 
tives. He  remembered  the  Sunday  he  and  Miss  Esten 
had  taken  tea  at  Airlie,  and  that  on  coming  away  she 
had  styled  this  very  cousin  "  a  selfish  brute."  Standish 
mentally  told  himself  that  it  was  odd  a  man  would  live 
away  from  his  own  country  so  long.  He  thought  that 
perhaps  he  had  stumbled  upon  the  black  sheep  of  the 
Elgar  family,  but  he  soon  scouted  that  idea,  as  he  re- 
membered the  air  of  dignity  and  elegance  which  sur- 
rounded his  companion. 

They  alighted  at  the  Ritter,  and  Dick  led  the  way  to 
his  rooms.  They  were  large  and  comfortable,  facing 
the  market-place  and  the  Neckar  Bridge.  One  thing 
which  Standish  particularly  noticed  was  the  immense 
cabinets  filled  with  carefully  arranged  geological  and 


AWAY   FROM    HOME   FOR   NEWS.  197 

mineralogical  specimens.  A  table  with  a  clumsy,  un- 
wieldy lamp  upon  it,  covered  with  manuscript  and 
partly-corrected  proof,  gave  evidence  of  some  sort  of 
literary  work.  "  Evidently  a  scholar,"  Standish  said  to 
himself  as  he  threw  himself  into  an  arm-chair  and  pro- 
ceeded to  make  himself  comfortable,  after  the  example 
set  him  by  Dick,  who  first  offered  him  cigars  or  his 
choice  of  several  pipes.  After  a  pause,  during  which 
both  men  lighted  up,  Dick  said,  with  a  touch  of  eager- 
ness that  he  had  not  shown  before  : 

"  Now,  Mr.  Standish,  will  you  kindly  tell  me  any  par- 
ticulars you  may  happen  to  know  about  my  uncle's  death  ? 
how  did  it  happen  ?  " 

"  It  was  said  to  have  been  a  stroke  of  paralysis.  He 
was  found  in  the  snow  by  his  daughter  and  Comly,  who 
were  returning  from  a  club  which  had  been  held  at  Cap- 
tain Esten's  Christmas-eve,  a  year  ago.  I  was  spending 
the  holidays  with  the  Estens,  and  was  there  when  it 
happened." 

"  I  understand  from  a  letter,  only  received  compara- 
tively lately,  that  his  death  was  a  terrible  shock  ;  that  he 
had  been  in  good  health  up  to  the  time  they  found  him 
in  the  snow  ;  is  this  true  ?  "  asked  Dick. 

"  Perfectly  true,  so  far  as  I  know." 

"  I  have  heard  nothing  further  from  the  family,  and  I 
am  very  anxious  to  know  how  they  are,  how  they  are 
getting  along.  Of  course  my  uncle  left  them  comfort- 
ably provided  for  ;  I  have  no  anxiety  on  that  point. 


198  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  sox. 

Pardon  me  for  asking  you  for  information  I  ought 
already  to  be  in  possession  of." 

Standish  wondered  how  it  could  be  that  he  seemed  in 
such  complete  ignorance  of  the  state  of  affairs  at  Airlie. 
He  also  wondered  how  he  could  possibly  tell  this  man 
that  his  two  nearest  relatives  were  in  dire  poverty,  with 
only  a  young  girl's  pluck  and  courage  between  them  and 
homelessness.  He  said  : 

"  Odd  that  they  should  leave  you  in  ignorance  of  what 
a  man  would  most  like  to  know  in  regard  to  his  nearest 
relatives." 

Dick  eyed  him  keenly,  as  if  to  fathom  the  meaning 
that  might  lurk  in  the  seemingly  careless  remark.  A 
flush  rose  to  his  face,  and  with  a  slight  hauteur  he  said 
quietly  : 

"At  the  time  of  my  uncle's  death,  which  was  in  the 
Spring  a  year  ago,  I  was  not  in  Germany.  I  had  been  sent 
with  an  expedition  to  Norway  and  Sweden.  I  pushed 
pretty  far  north,  and  was  most  of  the  time  out  of  reach  of 
letters.  When  I  finally  returned  to  Heidelberg,  it  was  to 
find  the  letter  written  months  before  announcing  my 
uncle's  death,  but  giving  no  particulars.  I  found  that 
other  letters  had  arrived  during  my  absence  which  had 
been  forwarded,  but  I  had  missed  them  at  every  point, 
and  for  some  reason  they  never  followed  me  back  to 
Heidelberg  ;  so  I  have  never  received  them.  I  have 
been  shaping  my  work  so  that  I  can  return  to  America. 
You  must  pardon  my  long  explanation,  but  you  see  why 


AWAY   FROM    HOME   FOR   NEWS.  199 

it  is  that  I  must  seek  information  from  you,  a  stranger." 
And  Dick  inclined  his  head  with  grave  courtesy  towards 
Standish. 

"  Confound  the  fellow,  how  much  manner  he  has  ;  just 
like  all  the  Germans,"  thought  Standish  to  himself,  for- 
getting that  Dick  had  just  claimed  America.  There  was 
a  pause,  while  the  two  men  smoked  in  silence.  Suddenly 
Standish  asked  casually  : 

"  How  long  is  it  since  you  have  seen  your  cousin,  Miss 
Elgar  ?  " 

"  It  is  fully  ten  years.  She  was  quite  a  little  girl  when 
I  left  America." 

"  She  is  a  beautiful  woman  now.  I  wish  you  could 
have  seen  her  as  I  saw  her  last."  Standish  knocked  the 
ashes  from  his  cigar,  straightened  himself  in  his  chair,  and 
with  more  energy  than  he  had  yet  shown,  launched  forth 
into  description  : 

"  She  was  just  getting  through  with  harvest,  and  was 
standing  in  the  hay-field.  She  had  on  some  sort  of  a 
cotton  gown,  plain  and  simple,  and  she  had  thrown  a 
disreputable  old  hat  down  at  her  feet.  Her  hair  was 
disordered  in  little  soft  ripples  ;  the  sunset  behind  her 
made  a  most  glorious  background,  and  I  tell  you  she 
was  simply  superb." 

"  What  do  you  mean  when  you  say  she  was  just  getting 
through  with  harvest  ? "  Dick  asked,  struck  more  with 
the  first  part  of  Standish's  description  than  with  the  last. 

"  Why,  I  mean  she  " — and  Standish  felt  he  had  made 


20O  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

a  mistake,  but  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  face  it. 
"  Why,  I  may  as  well  tell  you  frankly,  Mr.  Elgar,  your 
uncle  died  heavily  in  debt,  so  the  talk  goes  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. The  farm  is  covered  up  with  mortgages, 
and  Miss  Elgar  has  sold  part  of  the  land,  rented  out  a 
part  of  it,  and  is  fanning  the  rest  in  person.  Why, 
that  brave  girl  went  out  every  day  last  summer  in  the 
blazing  sun,  sowed,  reaped  and  threshed  side  by  side 
with  her  men." 

"  Good  God  !  Standish,  is  this  true  ? "  and  Dick  sprang 
to  his  feet,  asking  rapidly  :  "  Does  my  cousin  work  like 
a  common  laborer  ?  Where  is  my  aunt  that  she  allows  it  ?" 

"  Mrs.  Elgar  was  almost  a  helpless  invalid  when  I  saw 
her,  and  there  was  absolutely  no  one  but  Miss  Elgar  to 
do  any  thing." 

"  But  Kane  is  still  there,  is  he  not  ?  " 

"  Kane  ?  I  do  not  recall  any  such  person.  I  remem- 
ber seeing  an  old  negro,  very  much  crippled,  dragging 
himself  over  the  place  ;  perhaps  you  mean  him  ? " 

"  Kane  crippled  ? — my  aunt  a  helpless  invalid  ? — and 
little  Robin  a  drudge  ? "  ejaculated  Dick  slowly,  staring 
at  Standish  as  if  unable  to  believe  or  take  in  the  full  hor- 
ror of  the  situation. 

"Your  cousin  is  not  in  the  least  like  a  drudge,  Mr. 
Elgar.  She  manages  and  works  that  whole  farm  in  a 
way  that  I  feel  sure  neither  of  us  men  could  do.  She  is, 
besides,  decidedly  a  scholar.  She  reads  Greek  and  He- 
brew, and  she  rides  as  few  American  women  can.  By 


AWAY   FROM    HOME   FOR   NEWS.  2OI 

Jove,  she  revolutionizes  a  man's  idea  as  to  the  place 
woman  should  hold.  I  feel  like  taking  off  my  hat  every 
time  I  think  of  her." 

This  was  the  second  glowing  tribute  Standish  had 
given  utterance  to,  and  the  full  force  of  them  did  not 
strike  Dick  until  afterwards.  His  mind  was  running 
upon  the  one  great  fact :  that  his  uncle  had  died  leaving 
heavy  debts,  that  Airlie  was  almost  in  the  hands  of  the 
sheriff,  and  that  his  two  kinspeople  were  in  poverty. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  what  was  the  amount  of  my  uncle's 
indebtedness  ? " 

"  No,  I  cannot.  I  heard  it  speculated  upon ;  but  it 
was  at  most  only  guesswork." 

"  Do  you  know  whether  my  uncle  became  involved 
suddenly,  or  whether  it  was  the  result  of  letting  things 
slip  away  from  him  ?  " 

"The  latter,  I  fancy." 

"  One  more  thing,  Mr.  Standish  ;  there  is  no  stain  at- 
tached to  my  uncle's  name,  is  there  ? "  and  Dick  scruti- 
nized him  anxiously. 

"None  that  I  ever  heard  of."  He  paused  a  moment, 
then  went  on  :  "  You  must  pardon  me,  Mr.  Elgar,  if  I 
tell  you  one  thing  which  may  throw  light  upon  the  tangled 
condition  of  affairs  at  Airlie  ;  your  uncle  had  been  for 
several  years  before  his  death  a  hard  drinker." 

"Ah!"  Dick  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair.  His 
mind  flew  back  over  the  years,  till  it  brought  him  to  the 
day  when  he  and  his  uncle  leaned  on  the  fence,  looking 


202  GILBERT   ELGAR*S   SON. 

at  the  wheat,  and  his  uncle  had  told  him  he  "had  lost 
his  grip,"  and  had  lamented  having  no  son  to  take  things 
in  hand  at  Airlie.  He  remembered  distinctly  his  own 
boyish  reply,  "  All  that  I  am,  and  all  that  I  have  are 
yours,"  and  as  he  recalled  it  a  glow  of  shame  rose  to  his 
cheek  when  he  thought  how  empty  an  offer  it  had  been ; 
how  selfish  he  had  been  and  how  indifferent  to  the  fate  of 
his  kinsfolk.  It  was  small  comfort  to  him  to  think  that 
he  might  still  have  it  in  his  power  to  help  them. 

The  silence  between  the  two  men  lasted  some  time. 
Standish  blew  light  circling  rings  of  smoke  from  his 
cigar,  as  he  watched  the  gradually  darkening  face  of  his 
companion,  who  was  evidently  filled  with  uncomfortable 
thoughts  and  was  facing  a  painful  situation.  At  last, 
with  a  profound  sigh,  Dick  aroused  himself  and  said : 

"  I  fear  I  have  bored  you,  Mr.  Standish,  with  my  many 
questions  ;  and  painful  as  your  revelations  have  been  to 
me,  I  am  deeply  indebted  to  you." 

"  Don't  mention  it,"  replied  Standish.  After  a  pause, 
he  said  :  "  Airlie  is  a  beautiful  old  place,  but  so  is  your 
own  place,  Ivan  wold." 

"  Ah  !  you  have  been  there  ?  I  do  not  care  much  for 
the  place  ;  I  never  had  any  very  happy  associations  with 
it.  But  may  I  ask  if  you  know  what  caused  my  aunt's 
ill-health  ? " 

"  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  help  you  there  ;  I  never  hap- 
pened to  hear,  and  the  only  time  I  ever  met  her  Miss 
Elgar  was  wheeling  her  in  a  chair." 


AWAY   FROM   HOME   FOR   NEWS.  2O3 

"  And  my  cousin,  Miss  Elgar,  you  say,  is  beautiful  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  is  a  beautiful  woman."  Then  Standish  pro- 
ceeded to  tell  Dick  of  the  first  time  he  had  met  his 
cousin.  He  gave  a  slight  sketch  of  the  Estens,  and  of 
the  people  that  had  been  there  that  night.  He  men- 
tioned Jared  Comly  among  the  rest. 

"  Comly  ?  who  is  Comly  ?  you  mentioned  him,  I 
believe,  as  being  with  my  cousin  the  night  her  father 
was  found  in  the  snow  ?  " 

"  Comly  lives  at  Airlie,  and  works  there  as  half-over- 
seer, half-laborer,  I  believe." 

"  When  do  you  return  to  America,  Mr.  Standish?" 
asked  Dick  abruptly. 

"  I  expect  to  be  in  London  the  ist  of  June,  and  shall 
sail  almost  immediately." 

"  I  will  meet  you  in  London  and  sail  with  you,"  was 
the  unexpected  announcement. 

"  Good  ;  I  wish  you  could  go  to  Switzerland  with  me." 

"  I  cannot  ;  I  must  get  my  work  off  my  hands.  I 
have  several  lectures  yet  to  give,  and  a  paper  or  two  to 
finish." 

Standish  rose.  The  night  was  getting  late.  It  was 
evident  from  the  quietness  that  reigned  in  the  Ritter 
that  the  house  was  asleep.  Dick  accompanied  him  to 
his  rooms  at  the  top  of  the  house  ;  where  the  two  men, 
who  had  been  utter  strangers  only  a  few  hours  before, 
shook  hands  warmly  and  parted  friends,  with  many 
assurances  of  meeting  on  the  morrow. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

DICK    SHAPES    HIS   COURSE. 

T^vICK  returned  to  his  rooms.  He  walked  to  his  desk, 
turned  up  the  lamp,  abstractedly  picked  up  a 
sheet  of  the  manuscript  which  lay  there,  glanced  over 
it  without  understanding  a  word  of  what  was  before  his 
eyes,  laid  it  down  again,  threw  himself  into  the  arm- 
chair and  gave  himself  up  to  the  crowding  thoughts 
which  had  taken  possession  of  him  since  Standish  had 
made  the  revelations  concerning  his  cousins  and  the 
sad  changes  that  had  taken  place.  He  had  been 
shocked  to  hear  of  his  uncle's  death  at  the  time  he  first 
heard  the  news,  but  he  had  been  so  sure  that  aunt  and 
cousin  were  amply  provided  for  that  he  had  never  for  a 
moment  felt  any  concern  for  them  financially.  He  had 
always  known  his  uncle  as  a  rich  man,  rich,  that  is,  for 
the  country.  He  had  been  telling  himself  for  several 
months  that  he  ought  to  return  to  America  and  look 
after  things,  for  it  had  lain  heavily  upon  his  mind  that 
he  was  the  only  male  relative  left  his  aunt  and  cousin. 
But  his  absorbing  work  had  always  crowded  out 

204 


DICK   SHAPES   HIS   COURSE.  2O5 

thoughts  of  home,  and  he  had  put  off  the  time  of 
going. 

What  he  had  heard  to-night  was  so  terrible  that  he 
felt  he  must  go  to  their  aid  at  once.  He  could  not 
prevent  a  feeling  of  bitterness  in  his  heart  that  they 
should  not  have  turned  to  him  in  their  distress.  Surely 
his  aunt,  whom  next  to  his  own  mother  he  had  best 
loved,  ought  to  have  written  to  him  and  told  him  their 
situation  ;  but  it  was  with  a  pang  that  he  remembered 
how  long  he  had  left  unanswered  her  last  letter,  with  its 
sweet,  old-fashioned  expressions  of  interest  and  advice. 
She  had  never  written  again.  Then  he  thought  of 
Deborah  ;  surely  she  might  have  told  him  in  what  straits 
his  uncle's  death  had  left  them.  Perhaps  she  had  told 
him,  and  it  had  been  in  one  of  the  forwarded  letters 
which  he  had  never  received.  If  so,  they  were  none  the 
wiser,  and  must  be  thinking  him  selfish  and  heartless. 
Then  he  thought  of  Robin,  his  brave  little  cousin,  as  he 
still  thought  of  her,  laboring  in  the  fields  like  the  Ger- 
man women,  one  of  whom  he  had  seen  recently  har- 
nessed to  a  cart,  and  when  he  had  spoken  to  her,  she 
had  told  him  cheerfully  that  her  spouse  had  gone  to  the 
fair.  Perhaps  his  cousin  was  drudging,  just  as  the 
peasant  women  of  Germany  do.  The  thought  was  in- 
tolerable to  him.  What  could  they  be  thinking  of  in  the 
old  home  to  allow  her  to  do  it  ? 

Then  he  recalled  Standish's  glowing  tribute  to  Robin  ; 
in  fact,  he  remembered  that  Standish  had  shown  a  de- 


206  GILBERT  ELGAR'S   SON. 

cided  tendency  to  speak  frequently  of  her,  and  each  time 
with  enthusiasm  :  her  beauty,  her  sweetness,  her  attain- 
ments, her  pluck — all  had  been  dwelt  upon.  Was  it  pos- 
sible that  Standish  was  in  love  with  his  cousin  ?  He 
would  watch  him,  sound  him,  inquire  about  him  when  he 
reached  America,  and  if  he  should  prove  honorable  and 
had  any  prospects  in  life,  why,  Dick  said  to  himself,  it 
might  be  a  good  thing  for  little  Robin.  But  he  remem- 
bered there  had  been  another  man  spoken  of,  Comly, 
who  was  living  at  Airlie,  who  had  been  with  his  cousin 
the  night  his  uncle  had  been  found.  What  on  earth  was 
Comly,  or  any  man,  living  at  Airlie  for  ?  He  wondered 
if  he  could  be  one  of  the  Comlys  who  had  lived  in  Fenny 
Drayton  when  he  was  a  boy.  He  remembered  one  of 
them  had  been  worthless  and  had  run  away  from  home. 
The  whole  family  were  good,  plain  Friends,  but  not  quite 
on  a  social  level  with  Airlie  ;  it  would  never  do  for  Robin 
to  form  an  attachment  of  that  sort.  And  he  wondered 
that  his  aunt  would  take  into  her  home  any  one  that  his 
uncle  and  himself  might  perhaps  disapprove  of.  This 
idea  of  Comly  was  a  tormenting  one  to  Dick.  It  came 
back  to  him  again  and  again,  taking  a  new  shape  each 
time.  Perhaps  Robin,  through  sheer  propinquity,  was 
already  betrothed  to  him,  or  at  least  fancied  herself  in 
love  with  him.  Of  course,  if  Comly  was  living  with  them 
as  a  laborer,  or  at  best  as  overseer,  he  was  poor,  and  with 
Airlie  encumbered  he  saw  in  such  an  alliance  only  life- 
long drudgery  and  unhappiness  for  his  cousin,  whom  he 


DICK   SHAPES   HIS   COURSE.  2O/ 

must  protect  if  it  were  not  already  too  late.  Clearly,  he 
thought  to  himself  as  he  rose  from  his  chair,  when  the 
night  was  more  than  half  spent  :  "  I  will  go  home,  take 
charge  of  things  at  Airlie,  pay  off  the  mortgage,  get  rid 
of  Comly,  put  things  ship-shape,  and  then,  if  I  see  Stan- 
dish  proves  a  possible  lover,  I  will  take  him  into  consid- 
eration. He  's  not  half  bad  as  my  countrymen  go." 

Having  disposed  of  things  to  his  own  satisfaction,  and 
glad  that  he  had  settled  in  his  mind  upon'  his  plan  of 
action,  Dick  turned  in  for  the  night — to  dream  that  two 
soft,  childish  arms  were  clasped  tightly  about  his  neck, 
and  a  pathetic  little  voice  was  saying  tremulously  :  "  I 
shall  be  most  as  big  a  man  as  thee  when  thee  comes  back, 
Dick."  Then  the  scene  shifted  to  a  ploughed  field,  with 
a  wild  young  horse  tearing  madly  across  the  damp,  uneven 
furrows,  and  himself  dragging  at  the  end  of  a  long  rope. 
Then  again  he  seemed  to  see  coming  towards  him  a 
shabby  little  cart  loaded  with  herbs,  and  a  young  ragged 
girl  half-dragging  it,  half-hitched  to  it  ;  and  as  she  turned 
her  imploring  eyes  upon  him,  he  saw  the  childish  face  of 
his  cousin.  He  waked  with  cold  perspiration  standing 
out  upon  his  forehead,  to  find  that  it  was  only  a  horrible 
dream  ;  that  the  bright  April  sun  was  shining  outside, 
and  that  the  morning  was  already  late. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  two  men  were  breakfasting 
together,  quite  like  old,  familiar  friends.  Standish  agreed 
to  stay  in  Heidelberg  a  little  longer  than  his  original 
intention  had  been,  Dick  being  anxious  to  do  the  honors 


2O8  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

of  the  town  in  which  he  had  spent  so  much  of  his  time 
since  living  abroad.  He  urged  Standish  to  visit  some  of 
the  picturesque  places  that  lay  all  about  Heidelberg, 
scattered  among  the  hills  which  lined  the  Neckar  valley. 
It  was  decided  that  after  seeing  the  town  more  thor- 
oughly they  should  take  in  Speyer,  Eberbach,  and  perhaps 
Mosbach.  As  soon  as  breakfast  was  finished  the  two 
men  strolled  out  of  the  Ritter,  turning  their  steps  to  the 
Ludwig's  Platz,  where  the  University  buildings  stand. 
Dick  proceeded  to  take  his  new  friend  through  the  old 
Ruperto-Carola,  giving  in  a  few  brief  words  a  slight 
sketch  of  the  famous  cradle  of  science  of  South  Germany. 
As  they  walked  along,  Standish  was  more  and  more  im- 
pressed by  the  distinguished  appearance  of  his  companion 
and  the  amount  of  knowledge  he  seemed  to  possess  upon 
all  points.  He  wondered  to  himself  what  special  branch 
cf  science  his  companion  was  interested  in  ;  for,  save  the 
allusion  to  lectures  and  scientific  papers,  no  other  word 
had  escaped  him.  It  was  evident  he  was  connected  in 
some  way  with  the  University,  for  they  encountered 
students  and  professors  in  abundance,  many  of  whom, 
from  the  deference  of  their  greetings,  evidently  held  him 
in  high  esteem  and  as  a  person  of  consideration. 

In  the  course  of  their  wanderings  from  one  building 
to  another  Dick  si  id  :  "I  should  like  to  have  you  take  a 
glimpse  in  here  for  a  moment  "  ;  and  stepping  into  a 
dreary  building  near  at  hand,  they  entered  a  large  bare 
hall,  with  green  garlands  hanging  in  festoons  from  the 


DICK   SHAPES   HIS   COURSE.  2CX) 

ceiling.  There  were  forty  or  fifty  students  present  in  the 
hall,  all  of  them  wearing  queer  little  caps  of  various 
brilliant  colors,  tipped  over  their  eyes.  They  were  all 
intent  upon  two  central  figures  who  were  cutting  and 
slashing  at  each  other  with  long  swords.  It  flashed  over 
Standish  that  the  Heidelberg  students  were  famous 
swordsmen,  and  that  they  constantly  met  the  members 
of  the  different  corps  in  schlager  combat.  This,  he 
thought,  might  account  for  his  companion's  long  scar. 
As  he  bent  his  eyes  upon  him  inquiringly,  Dick  caught 
the  glance.  He  smiled,  touched  the  scar  on  his  cheek, 
and  said  in  an  undertone  :  "  Yes,  it  was  done  with  a 
schlager  in  my  early  student  days,  and  in  just  such  a 
place  as  this."  As  they  stood  looking  on  at  what  to 
Standish  seemed  a  most  ridiculous  and  brutal  exhibition, 
Dick  said  : 

"  You  see,  the  students  are  divided  into  corps,  each 
corps  being  distinguished  by  a  certain-colored  cap. 
Any  man  joining  a  corps  is  expected  to  challenge  a 
man  of  another  corps.  They  meet  and  fight  in  the  pres- 
ence of  other  members,  until  one  of  them  receives  a  bad 
cut.  Every  man  in  every  corps  is  expected  to  fight 
six  or  eight  times  in  this  way  ;  if  he  does  not  he  is 
branded  as  cowardly.  Do  not  imagine  that  they  are 
fighting  out  a  feud  or  some  difference  they  have  had. 
They  fight  with  these  schlagers  in  the  same  spirit  that 
college  students  in  America  play  foot-ball  or  base-ball, 
or  pit  one  crew  against  another  in  a  regatta.  As  you 
14 


2IO  GILBERT   ELGAR/S   SON. 

see,  they  do  not  fence  ;  it  is  really  rough  sword-thrust- 
ing. The  eyes  are  protected  as  you  observe  with  wire 
goggles,  and  the  vital  parts  of  the  body  are  safely 
padded.  It  is  a  queer  custom,  without  rhyme  or  reason, 
but  as  old  as  the  University  itself." 

"  And  you  fought  just  as  we  now  see  these  two  young 
men  doing?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Dick  ;  "what 's  more,"  he  added,  "  I 
fear  at  the  time  I  enjoyed  it."  They  did  not  remain 
very  long,  nor  see  the  termination  of  the  combat.  After 
they  went,  Dick  said  : 

"  The  scientific  collections  and  other  institutions,  Mr. 
Standish,  are  in  the  Friedrichsbau,  which  you  probably 
saw  yesterday  at  the  Schloss." 

"  To  tell  the  truth,  I  only  had  time  to  walk  through 
the  Schloss  in  a  very  superficial  way.  I  saw  nothing 
really  but  the  magnificent  view  of  the  town  and  the 
Neckar." 

"  You  did  not  see  the  Gesprenkte  Thurm  then  ? " 
Dick  asked,  with  a  slight  disappointment  in  his  tone. 

"  I  presume  not,  but  the  German  names  are  so  con- 
foundedly hard  that  I  find  I  do  not  recognize  them 
when  I  hear  them  properly  pronounced.  Do  you  mean 
Blown-up  Tower  ? " 

"Yes.  In  the  side  of  the -moat,  just  near  where  thje 
tower  lies,  there  is  a  curious  combination  of  red  sand- 
stone and  granite  which  is  of  the  deepest  interest  and 
importance,  geologically  considered." 


DICK   SHAPES   HIS   COURSE.  211 

"  I  should  like  to  go  through  the  Schloss  with  you  for 
cicerone.  Have  you  the  time  to  spare  ? " 

"  Most  certainly,"  replied  Dick. 

The  two  turned  toward  the  castle,  deciding  to  lunch 
later  at  the  Molkencur,  which  stands  high  above  the 
Schloss.  As  they  walked  along  Dick  talked  delightfully. 
He  gave  little  sketches  of  the  people  in  and  about  the 
picturesque  old  town  ;  he  told  of  some  of  the  queer  cus- 
toms among  the  students  ;  he  related  odd  experiences  of 
his  own  during  his  travels  ;  and  Standish  each  moment 
was  more  and  more  compelled  to  admire  his  companion. 
He  felt  that  here  was  a  man  who  knew  the  world  thor- 
oughly without  being  a  cynic  ;  was  learned  without 
being  a  prig,  and  was  fine-looking  and  distinguished 
without  seeming  to  be  conscious  of  it.  The  resemblance 
to  the  far-away  Maryland  cousin,  which  had  been  so 
strong  at  first,  was  gradually  fading,  and  the  more  he 
saw  of  him  the  less  pronounced  did  it  appear,  until 
finally  the  only  thing  that  reminded  him  of  her  was  a 
certain  fearlessness  of  glance  and  gesture. 

Meanwhile  Dick  was  quietly  and  unobtrusively  study- 
ing his  countryman,  noting  all  that  he  said  and  all  that 
he  did,  with  a  view  to  finding  out  if  possible  what  sort 
of  a  man  he  was,  what  his  instincts  were,  and  what  sort 
of  a  fellow  he  would  be  for  little  Robin  to  marry.  He 
confessed  himself  a  little  puzzled.  He  was  afraid  Stand- 
ish was  rather  a  light-weight,  but  under  his  seeming  in- 
difference and  indolence  there  might  be  considerable 
manliness  ;  he  was  evidently  a  gentleman. 


212  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

Thus  each  man,  unconscious  that  he  was  an  object  of 
any  special  scrutiny  from  the  other,  pursued  his  own  line 
of  thought,  while  keeping  up  an  unbroken  flow  of  talk. 
They  had  long  since  reached  the  Schloss  and  examined 
one  thing  of  interest  after  another.  At  last  they 
found  themselves  in  the  wonderful  Blown-up  Tower. 
After  gazing  down  upon  the  half  of  the  ruin  that  lay  in 
the  moat,  Dick  proposed  that  they  should  descend  and 
inspect  from  a  near  point  the  curious  geological  prob- 
lem that  was  visible  below,  and  of  which  he  had  spoken 
a  little  while  before.  Dick  pointed  it  out  and  began  a 
rapid  and  glowing  dissertation  upon  the  strange  com- 
bination. Standish  felt  that  he  had  at  last  come  upon 
his  companion's  hobby.  He  said  : 

"  Ah  !  you  are  a  mineralogist." 

"  Yes,  to  a  certain  extent.  Geology,  however,  is  the 
special  object  of  my  work,  but  the  two  are  of  course 
inseparable." 

"  To  be  a  geologist,  then,  you  must  be  a  mineralogist  ? 
And  how  many  other  sciences  must  a  man  combine  with 
it?" 

Dick  laughed  lightly  at  the  tone  of  his  companion. 

"  Oh,  well,  naturally,  to  know  any  thing  of  the  con- 
stituents of  rocks  one  must  know  something  of  mineral- 
ogy ;  and  a  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  change  depends 
upon  chemistry  and  physics  ;  while  of  course  the  study 
of  fossil  remains  is  closely  allied  with  zoology  and  bot- 
any. Any  one  of  these  sciences  involves  more  or  less 
the  study  of  them  all." 


DICK  SHAPES  HIS  COURSE.        213 

"Jove,  it  must  be  a  grind  on  a  man  to  acquire  it  all." 

"  Oh,  no  ;  I  owe  my  taste  for  science  to  my  father.  I 
can  remember,  when  I  was  only  a  little  fellow,  of  follow- 
ing him  all  about  our  old  farm  in  Maryland.  He  had 
collected  all  sorts  of  queer  things,  queer  to  me  at  least 
as  a  boy  :  arrow-heads  which  had  been  turned  up  in  the 
ploughing,  and  several  rudely  cut  stone  bowls,  bits  of 
queer  pebbles,  together  with  dried  plants  and  the  like. 
He  was  a  bit  of  a  botanist,  geologist  and  mineralogist, 
and  he  would  explain  his  treasures  to  me  by  the  hour." 
Dick  sighed  as  he  recalled  how  that  same  cherished  col- 
lection of  weeds  and  stones  had  mysteriously  disappeared 
in  the  general  upturning  when  The  Meadows  became 
Ivanwold.  After  a  slight  pause  he  continued  :  "  After 
my  father's  death,  which  occurred  when  I  was  about  ten 
years  old,  I  remember  I  made  a  collection  of  stones, 
bits  of  rocks  and  pressed  flowers,  all  upon  my  own 
responsibility." 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  pitch  your  tent  here  in 
Germany?"  Standish  asked. 

"  After  graduating  at  Harvard,  I  came  here  to  enter 
upon  a  course  of  study  under  Rosenbusch,  and  I  have  re- 
mained in  Heidelberg  off  and  on  ever  since,  studying 
and  lecturing.  There  is  a  most  delightful  and  learned 
coterie  of  German  scientific  men  to  be  met  here,  and  I 
have  remained  year  after  year,  going  away  of  course  for 
periods  of  travel  and  research." 

The  two  men  were  silent  for  a  few  moments.  Then 
Standish  asked  : 


214  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

"  Were  you  in  earnest  last  night  about  returning  to 
America  ? " 

"  Most  assuredly.  I  have  delayed  already  too  long 
returning  to  my  old  home  ;  and  I  feel  that  after  the 
revelations  you  made  last  night,  my  cousins  must  be  my 
first  thought  and  care  until  I  can  straighten  out  their 
affairs.  I  never  had  any  thing  come  upon  me  with  such 
a  shock,  and  I  would  not  be  half  a  man  if  I  delayed 
longer  in  returning  and  taking  the  helm." 

His  companion  could  not  help  fancying  that  he  was 
counting  upon  rather  an  unknown  quantity  when  he 
spoke  so  positively  about  taking  the  helm  ;  he  felt  sure 
that  he  would  find  a  strong  hand  at  the  helm  already, 
but  it  was  none  of  his  business,  he  told  himself. 

The  day  passed  rapidly,  and  several  more  besides. 
Standish  found  that,  instead  of  staying  only  twenty-four 
hours  in  Heidelberg,  he  had  spent  five  days  there.  At 
the  end  of  them  he  was  ready  to  resume  his  journey  ; 
and  one  bright  morning  the  two  new  friends,  thrown 
together  by  chance,  were  to  be  seen  walking  to  the  sta- 
tion, conversing  rapidly  and  eagerly.  A  few  moments 
before  the  train  moved  off,  Dick  said  earnestly  : 

"  You  will  secure  passage  for  me  with  your  own  at 
Liverpool  ?  Wire  me  as  soon  as  it  is  done,  the  day  and 
the  steamer.  Any  plan  or  arrangement  you  make  will 
be  satisfactory  to  me.  Give  me  three  days'  notice  and  I 
will  be  there."  , 

"  You  may  depend  upon  me,"  his  companion  rejoined. 
And  with  a  warm  clasp  of  hands  they  parted. 


DICK   SHAPES   HIS   COURSE.  21$ 

Six  weeks  later,  upon  a  warm  day  in  early  June,  all 
was  bustle  and  confusion  at  the  dock  of  one  of  the  great 
steamship  lines  at  Liverpool.  The  hours  before  sailing 
had  dragged  slowly  by  ;  chaos  was  gradually  subsiding, 
and  Standish  was  beginning  to  be  nervous  at  the  non- 
arrival  of  his  travelling  companion.  At  almost  the  last 
moment,  a  cab  rattled  down  to  the  dock.  Dick  jumped 
out  hurriedly,  looked  up  his  boxes  which  had  preceded 
him,  and  soon  he  and  Standish  were  standing  on  deck 
watching  the  receding  land.  Standish  looked  curiously 
at  his  newly-arrived  friend,  and  could  not  refrain  from 
saying  : 

"  What  have  you  done  to  yourself,  Elgar  ?  You  look 
different,  somehow." 

"  Well,  I  have  become  more  civilized  for  one  thing  ; 
I  Ve  taken  off  my  German  beard.     And  I  've  shaken  off  ' 
the  musty,  prosy  air  of  the  professor.     By  Jove,  I  feel 
like  a  boy  off  on  a  holiday  ;  I  have  n't  felt  as  young  in 
years." 

He  turned  his  face  hopefully  towards  the  west.  The 
ship  pulled  slowly  out  to  sea  ;  the  land  became  a  dim, 
uncertain  line  against  the  horizon,  till  it  was  swallowed 
up  in  the  boundless  ocean. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
THE  "HORTICULTURAL." 

'"THE  old  farm  was  flaunting  its  best  and  richest  rai- 
ment in  the  warm  June  sunshine.  The  soft  flakes 
of  locust-bloom  were  gently  wafted  from  the  far-away 
clusters  upon  the  tree-tops,  and  lay  scattered  upon  the 
fresh  green  bosom  of  the  lane,  there  to  vie  in  sweetness 
with  the  tall  Indian  grass  which  scented  every  passing 
breeze ;  and  all  nature,  as  if  in  love  with  her  own 
charms,  seemed  to  pause  before  plunging  into  the  arid 
heat  of  summer.  The  whole  place  wore  an  unusually 
festive  look,  as  if  it,  too,  were  basking  in  the  gala  June 
day,  before  the  toil  and  hurry  of  harvest  drew  on.  It 
was  evident  that  preparations  for  some  gathering  were 
in  progress.  A  row  of  tables  on  the  lawn,  just  under  the 
sitting-room  windows,  was  laden  with  specimens  of 
various  vegetables  and  fruits,  each  carefully  labelled 
with  the  name  of  the  farm  from  which  it  had  been  sent 
in  the  early  morning  ;  while  apart  from  the  vegetables, 
upon  a  long,  narrow  table,  were  ranged  all  manner 
of  bowls  and  glasses  containing  a  wilderness  of  every 

216 


THE   HORTICULTURAL.  2 1? 

flower  known  to  a  country  garden  that  the  month  of 
June  could  produce.  Inside  every  thing  wore  a  "  com- 
pany look."  The  sitting-room  was  at  its  best,  with 
feathery  asparagus,  freshly  cut,  filling  in  the  fire-place. 
Up  in  Dorothea's  own  room,  the  best  fringed  spread 
spotlessly  covered  the-  high  four-posted  bed  with  its 
dimity  hangings.  Every  thing  was  in  its  accustomed 
place,  from  the  old-time  print  of  Elizabeth  Fry  talking 
to  the  women  in  the  prison  at  Newgate,  to  the  pins  stuck 
in  precise  order  upon  the  drab  cushion.  In  the  dining- 
room  the  mahogany  table  was  polished  till  it  reflected 
the  dishes  upon  it  ;  for,  after  the  fashion  of  Maryland 
tea-tables,  it  had  no  cloth,  but  spotless  napkins  were 
spread  under  each  plate.  It  was  evident  that  a  large 
company  was  expected.  Dorothea  was  on  the  porch,  in 
a  fine  taffeta  gown,  with  folded  kerchief,  ready  and 
waiting  to  extend  her  old-time,  cordial  greeting  to  the 
comers. 

It  was  to  be  a  meeting  of  the  "  Horticultural,"  and 
was  the  first  gathering  of  any  kind  that  had  been  held 
at  Airlie  since  Gilbert's  death.  Dorothea  was  anxious, 
on  her  daughter's  account,  that  the  old-time  hospitality 
should  be  resumed.  She  felt  that  Robin  was  falling  out 
of  the  habits  of  the  neighborhood,  that  she  had  excluded 
herself  from  the  many  gatherings  far  too  much  ;  so,  as  a 
personal  favor,  she  had  asked  the  society  to  meet  once 
more  at  Airlie.  Robin  came  through  the  hall  and  out  to 
the  porch,  her  light,  firm  step  bringing  a  smile  to  Doro- 


2l8  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

thea's  face.  She  was  dressed  in  a  mull  gown  of  white, 
with  no  color  relieving  its  extreme  simplicity.  The  soft 
surplice  waist  crossed  upon  her  bosom  and  the  full 
folds  of  the  drapery  upon  the  skirt  falling  about  her  tall, 
symmetrical  figure  clothed  her  most  fittingly.  Her  hair, 
drawn  back  rather  more  than  usual,  left  exposed  a  line 
of  white  forehead  which  contrasted  dazzlingly  with  the 
sunburn  and  tan  which  spread  over  the  rest  of  the  face, 
through  which  shone  the  ruddy  color  of  perfect  health. 
Dorothea  gazed  fondly  and  admiringly  at  her,  and  said  : 

"  Thee  looks  to-day  as  I  like  to  see  thee  look,  Robin. 
I  wish  thee  would  wear  pretty  things  oftener,  and  dress 
more  like  Harmony." 

"  Harmony's  style  would  not  suit  a  dairy-maid  ;  and 
surely,  mother,  thee  would  not  like  to  see  me  in  a 
bunched-up  gown  on  the  reaper?"  Dorothea  sighed 
without  replying.  Robin  continued  :  "  I  ought  never 
to  wear  white,  I  am  so  tanned,  mother."  She  stretched 
out  her  hand,  as  brown  as  a  berry,  and  laid  it  beside  the 
white  frail  hands  of  her  mother. 

"  I  never  see  the  tan,  Robin,  when  I  think  of  all  thy 
hands  have  done  ;  they  are  good  and  honest "  ;  and  she 
stroked  them  gently. 

Robin  smiled  as  she  thought  of  Harmony's  delicate 
hands  covered  with  rings,  and  then  of  her  own,  which 
were  brown,  firm  and  ringless. 

Deborah  now  appeared,  her  cotton  gown  turned  and 
pinned  up  at  the  back,  displaying  a  pair  of  sturdy  feet 


THE   HORTICULTURAL.  2 19 

and  ankles.  An  old  sun-bonnet  shaded  her  face,  while 
her  arms  were  full  of  odds  and  ends  she  had  picked  up 
on  her  way  through  the  house  from  the  garden.  In  one 
hand  she  held  a  monster  beet  she  had  evidently  just 
rooted  up  from  the  ground. 

"  See  what  a  beauty,  Robin  ;  I  'm  going  to  put  it 
where  it  will  be  seen." 

"  But,  Cousin  Deb,  it  is  half-past  three,  and  thee  is 
not  dressed." 

"  It  won't  take  me  two  minutes  to  slip  into  my  old  de- 
laine." She  put  her  prize  beet  in  the  most  prominent 
place  on  one  of  the  tables,  then  tramped  into  the 
house. 

The  carriages  began  to  arrive  and  deposit  their  loads. 
Some  of  the  older  Friends  came  armed  with  cap-baskets, 
which,  besides  the  cap,  contained  a  bit  of  knitting  or 
crocheting.  After  the  feminine  portion  of  the  arrivals 
had  shaken  out  the  folds  of  their  simple  gowns,  or 
adjusted  the  bands  of  velvet  which  held  the  hair  in  place 
under  the  plain  caps,  they  descended  to  inspect  the  speci- 
men vegetables  and  flowers  gathered  on  the  tables ; 
thence  they  went  to  the  garden,  to  judge  of  the  young 
owner's  skill  and  success  in  gardening.  One  by  one 
they  drifted  back  to  the  house,  to  the  sitting-room 
where  the  meeting  was  to  be  held  ;  and  soon  it  was 
crowded  to  its  uttermost  capacity  ;  only  a  few  of  the 
younger  men,  among  whom  were  Jared  and  Thaddy, 
remained  in  the  hall,  or  on  the  porch.  The  president 


22O  GILBERT   ELGAR  S   SOX. 

of  the  Horticultural,  Abel  Wharton,  a  tall,  distinguished 
man,  who  was  quite  the  foremost  man  among  the 
Friends,  rose  and  called  the  meeting  to  order  : 

"  Before  proceeding  to  our  regular  business,  I  would 
like  to  say  on  behalf  of  the  Horticultural  that  it  is  a  great 
pleasure  for  us  to  be  assembled  once  more  at  Airlie,  and 
that  we  welcome  the  return  of  Friend  Elgar  to  our 
midst.  Further,  we  cannot  too  highly  commend  the 
young  farmer,  who  by  her  skill  and  hard  work  has  done 
so  much  already,  and  who  bids  fair  to  make  her  farm  one 
of  the  model  places  of  our  neighborhood.  I  am  sure  that 
no  one  among  us  to-day  has  a  better  offering  of  flowers 
and  vegetables  than  Robin  Elgar." 

There  was  a  slight  pause  ;  then  he  continued  in  a 
brisk,  business-like  tone  : 

"  The  Secretary  will  now  read  the  minutes  of  the  last 
meeting."  This  being  done,  the  first  paper  of  the  after- 
noon, taken  from  Henderson's  "  Gardening  for  Profit," 
was  read,  after  which  followed  a  discussion  of  the  best 
methods  of  planting  out  various  vegetables  and  flowers, 
while  crochet-  and  knitting-needles  flew  in  and  out, 
keeping  time  to  the  sound  of  the  voices.  The  time  for 
discussion  and  the  business  hour  passed,  then  the  second 
and  last  paper  of  the  afternoon  was  called  for.  This 
paper  was  generally  more  of  a  literary  effort  than  the 
preceding  one,  and  was  more  in  the  nature  of  an  essay. 
Though  it  always  had  some  bearing  upon  the  object  of 
the  meeting,  it  was  allowed  a  wider  range,  and  any  thing 


THE   HORTICULTURAL.  221 

original  or  new  was  acceptable.  Abel  Wharton  looked 
abouj  among  the  different  members  present  for  the 
reader  of  the  second  paper,  but  no  one  responded  as  he 
called  her  name.  At  last  he  asked  : 

"  Is  not  Hadassah  Comly  present  this  afternoon  ?  She 
was  the  appointed  essayist." 

"  Hadassah  did  not  come,"  responded  Jared  from  the 
doorway.  Hadassah  was  his  brother's  wife. 

"  Does  thee  know  whether  she  sent  her  paper  ?  " 

"I  think  she  did  not  send  it,"  he  responded  once 
more. 

No  one  could  give  any  reason  for  her  absence,  or  knew 
any  thing  of  the  essay.  The  President  then  looked  about 
him. 

"Will  any  one  volunteer  any  thing  in  Hadassah's 
place  ?  Miss  Harmony,  cannot  you  tell  us  something 
interesting  ?  No  ? "  as  Harmony  shook  her  head. 
"  Jared,  will  thee  ?  No  ?  Perhaps  Thaddeus  Watkins 
will  volunteer  something?  "  But  Thaddy  quickly  disap- 
peared from  behind  Jared  in  the  doorway,  where  he  had 
been  standing,  while  a  broad  smile  went  round  the 
room. 

"  Edward  Granville,  will  thee  speak  ?  No  ?  Why 
this  is  terrible  ;  all  this  roomful,  and  no  one  with  an 
idea.  Come,  Evan  Massie,  thee  can  surely  teach  us 
something?" 

"  Thee  'd  better  not  call  on  me  for  a  homily  on  garden- 
ing. I  do  not  know  a  leek  from  an  onion,"  replied  Evan, 


222  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

"  I  will  make  a  last  appeal  :  Robin  Elgar,  thee  's  a 
gardener ;  can  thee  help  us  out  ?  If  thee  can  think  of 
nothing  else,  tell  us  what  thee  knows  about  leeks." 

Robin  flushed,  then  smiled,  and  said  hesitatingly  : 

"  I  know  nothing  really  about  leeks,  but  the  other  day 
I  came  across  something  odd,  apropos  of  them.  It 
seems  that  during  the  reign  of  Charlemagne  his  subjects 
had  given  so  much  more  attention  and  time  to  the  art  of 
war  than  to  the  tillage  of  the  soil,  that  agriculture  was 
absolutely  at  a  standstill.  The  Emperor,  knowing  what 
terrible  disaster  would  overtake  a  people  that  did  not 
raise  crops  and  vegetables,  ordered  every  householder  in 
his  kingdom  to  make  a  garden,  and  even  gave  them  a  list 
of  plants  that  were  to  be  raised.  Among  them  he  par- 
ticularly commanded  that  leeks  should  be  planted  on 
every  house-top.  The  result  of  this  edict  was  that 
the  range  of  many  herbs  was  widely  extended  geographi- 
cally. And  I  believe  Plutarch  says  that  the  ancient 
Greeks  invariably  planted  roses  and  violets  among  their 
onions  and  leeks."  She  stopped. 

"  Go  on,"  said  several. 

"  That  is  all  I  know  about  leeks,"  she  replied 
quietly. 

Everybody  continued  to  look  at  her  expectantly  and 
interestedly.  After  a  moment  of  utter  silence,  with  evi- 
dent hesitancy,  she  began  again,  in  a  low,  clear  voice,  as 
if  she  were  repeating  from  memory  or  reading  from  some 
book  : 


THE   HORTICULTURAL.  223 

"When,  in  the  new-born  spring,  from  the  snow-clad  mountains  the 

water 

Flows  ice-cold,  and  the  soil  to  the  west  wind  crumbling  unloosens, 
Even  then  let  my  steer  'neath  the  plough  deep-driven  his  groaning 
Begin,  and  the  ploughshare  rubbed  by  the  furrow  begin  its  gleaming. 

"  That  field,  at  least,  to  the  hopes  of  the  greedy  farmer  will  answer, 
Which  twice  hath  the  warmth  of  the  sun  and  twice  the  cold  winter 

experienced ; 
The  plentiful  crops  of  such  the  store-houses  oft  fill  to  bursting. 

"  But  before  a  soil  until  now  unknown  we  cut  with  the  ploughshare, 
Let  us  take  care  to  leurn  the  winds  and  the  sky  with  its  changing  ; 
The  preceding  methods  of  culture,  the  inherited  nature  of  country, 
And  what  each  region  may  bear  and  to  what  each  refuses  a  welcome." 

She  paused.  The  whole  room  was  silent :  crochet-  and 
knitting-needles  stopped  ;  each  ear  was  taking  in  the 
deep,  clear  tones  of  the  voice,  each  eye  was  fixed  upon 
the  face  of  the  speaker.  Two  at  least  of  all  the  room, 
Abel  Wharton  and  Evan  Massie,  knew  from  what  she 
was  reciting  ;  Evan  knew  that  she  was  making  her  own 
blank- verse  translation.  He  followed  her  step  by  step, 
and  when  she  paused  both  men  cried  simultaneously : 
"  Go  on."  She  continued,  and  passed  from  one  glowing 
tribute  to  another  :  the  ploughing  and  preparing  of  the 
soil,  the  effect  of  climate,  the  grain,  the  vines,  the  trees, 
the  cattle  and  the  bees.  She  gave  faithfully  line  after 
line  of  that  most  unique  poetic  eulogy  of  agriculture,  the 
Georgics.  Evan  remembered,  with  a  glow  on  his  face, 
when  she  first  read  Virgil ;  he  remembered  how  she 
followed  the  fortunes  and  wanderings  of  ^Eneas  with 
avidity,  but  had  turned  afterwards  with  reluctance  to  the 


224  GILBERT   ELGAR*S   SON. 

Georgics,  complaining  that  they  were  dull.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  with  her  experiences  of  the  last  year  and  her 
maturer  taste,  she  had  turned  again  to  Virgil,  to  find  that 
in  the  childishly-despised  Georgics  the  poet  had  pictured 
the  tillage  of  the  soil  in  such  exalted  poetic  strains  as  to 
enchain  her  mind. 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment  or  two  when  she 
ceased  to  speak  ;  then  she  was  warmly  thanked  by  Abel 
Wharton  for  her  appropriate  and  impromptu  recitation, 
and  the  meeting  adjourned.  Evan  made  his  way  quickly 
to  her,  and  said  : 

"  Thee  has  been  re-reading  Virgil  I  see.  Does  thee 
remember  thy  verdict  years  ago  upon  the  Georgics  ?  " 

"Do  not  remind  me  of.  my  childish  opinion.  I  was  too 
young  for  such  reading,  Evan  ;  but  I  thank  thee  for  it,  all 
the  same.  I  re-read  the  Georgics  this  past  winter.  The 
parts  I  quoted  particularly  pleased  me  and  remained  in 
my  memory." 

"  I  was  proud  of  thee,  child  ;  thy  recitation  was  most 
opportune." 

"  Come,  Robin,  it 's  supper-time,  and  we  've  got  to  feed 
all  these  people.  Where  is  Jared  ?  "  This  was  Debo- 
rah, who  was  bustling  about,  carrying  the  chairs  from  the 
sitting-room  to  the  dining-room.  "  Here,  Evan,  thee  carry 
these  two  chairs  "  ;  and  seeing  Thaddy  she  called  out, 
"Come  here,  Thad  Watkins,  and  make  yourself  useful." 

As  Thaddy  came  up  to  them,  he  armed  himself  with  a 
couple  of  chairs  and  said,  as  he  passed  Robin  : 


THE   HORTICULTURAL.  22$ 

"  Miss  Rob,  I  'm  dlad  you  were  able  to  say  somethin' 
this  af'noon.  By  Gup,  I  mos'  fell  down  when  Mr. 
Wharton  spoke  out  my  name  ;  I  jus*  lit  out." 

"  Well,  suppose  you  '  light  out '  with  those  chairs," 
said  Deborah  sharply. 

"  'Deed,  Miss  Deb,  I  won'er  why  you  're  so  hard  on  a 
fella.  I  'm  goin'  as  fas'  as  I  can  "  ;  and  he  hustled  away 
to  the  dining-room  in  perfect  good-nature. 

The  big  supper  was  soon  in  progress  ;  and  before  the 
last  rays  of  the  sun  gathered  into  an  after-glow  it  was 
over.  The  Friends  began  to  depart,  and  the  last  carriage 
drove  down  the  lane  just  as  the  lumbering,  red  stage 
rattled  past  the  gate  through  the  village,  and  Airlie  was 
left  in  quiet.  Robin  and  Deborah  gathered  up  the 
remains  of  supper,  and  put  away  the  best  china  ;  the 
chairs  were  all  set  back  in  their  usual  places,  the  sitting- 
room  made  orderly  and  trim,  and  then  the  two  came  out 
on  the  porch  and  joined  Dorothea. 

"  Oh,  dear  me,"  exclaimed  Deborah,  gazing  despair- 
ingly at  the  tables  of  vegetables  and  flowers  on  the  lawn  : 
"What  is  to  be  done  with  all  this  truck,  I  'd  like  to 
know  ?  Can't  it  stay  where  it  is  for  to-night  ? "  she 
asked  of  Dorothea. 

"Why,  yes  ;  I  do  not  believe  any  one  will  touch  it." 

"  Well,  as  long  as  'taint  chickens  I  guess  it  's  all  safe 
from  the  darkies.  Robin  and  I  are  too  tired  to  put  it 
away  to-night." 

They  sat  upon  the  darkening  porch  to  talk  over 
15 


226  GILBERT  ELGAR'S   SON. 

the  afternoon.  Presently  Jared  came  from  the  village. 
He  went  to  the  window-sill  where  Gilbert  used  to  keep 
his  pipe  and  tobacco.  As  he  filled  his  pipe  he  said  : 

"By  the  way,  Cousin  Deborah,  Phil  Rush,  Friend 
Rush's  son  thee  knows,  came  up  in  the  stage  to-night. 
He  asked  if  thee  were  here,  and  said  a  stranger  came  in 
the  stage  with  him  as  far  as  Ivanwold,  where  he  got  out, 
bag  and  baggage." 

"  Humph  !  did  he  say  what  sort  of  looking  man  he 
was?" 

"  Big  man,  with  blond  hair  and  moustache." 

"  Big  man  with  blond  hair  and  moustache  ?  Let  me 
see,  I  don't  know  any  one  of  that  description." 

"  If  thee  feels  uneasy  I  will  drive  thee  to  Ivanwold." 

"  Pooh  !  it 's  some  one  of  those  agents.  Every  summer 
I  am  tormented  by  some  one  who  comes  along  and  says 
he  hears  the  place  is  for  sale.  I  don't  care  a  button  for 
all  the  agents  alive  ;  let  him  take  care  of  himself."  She 
asked  presently  :  "  But  why  did  Phil  Rush  want  to 
know  if  I  were  here  ?  " 

"  He  said  the  stranger  asked  him  if  thee  were  at  Ivan- 
wold or  away  on  a  visit.  Phil  remembered,  it  seems, 
that  the  Horticultural  would  meet  here  this  afternoon, 
and  that  thee  would  probably  be  here  for  the  night." 

"  Well,  I  '11  go  home  bright  and  early  in  the  morning, 
but  I  don't  mean  to  stir  a  step  to-night." 

Just  then  Robin  rose  to  go  into  the  house  ;  as  she  did 
so  she  said  : 


THE   HORTICULTURAL.  22/ 

"  Jared,  does  thee  know  where  the  key  of  the  smoke- 
house is  ?  It  is  not  hanging  on  the  nail  in  the  inner 
kitchen." 

"  I  saw  it  hanging  in  the  smoke-house  door  this  morn- 
ing ;  I  will  go  and  see  if  it  is  there." 

"  No,  thee  need  not  ;  I  will  go." 

She  went  quickly  through  the  house,  down  the  steps 
of  the  high  kitchen  porch,  and  out  towards  the  smoke- 
house, just  as  Jared  came  round  the  corner  of  the  house 
on  the  same  errand.  They  reached  the  spot  together. 
Their  hands  met  awkwardly  in  the  dark  upon  the  latch  of 
the  door.  The  missing  key  was  there.  Jared  drew  back 
hastily  with  it  in  his  hand.  Robin  turned  towards  the 
garden  and  said  : 

"  Don't  wait  for  me,  I  must  see  that  the  turkeys  are 
shut  up." 

She  stepped  hurriedly  over  the  grass  to  where  the  coop 
stood  just  outside  the  hedge  of  the  garden.  Jared  strode 
up  in  the  dark  at  her  side. 

"  Let  me  help  thee,"  he  said,  in  such  gentle  tones  that 
Robin  said,  hurriedly  : 

"  Thank  thee,  no,"  and,  turning  towards  the  house, 
she  added  :  "  Good-night." 

Jared  hurried  after  her,  and  said  with  a  note  of  anger 
in  his  voice  : 

"  Why  does  thee  always  turn  from  me  ?  Cannot  thee 
show  me  even  ordinary  kindness,  when  I  would  give  all 
I  possess  for  some  token  that  I  am  not  the  least  among 
thy  friends  ?  " 


228  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

"  Jared,  I  did  not  mean  to  be  abrupt  or  unkind,  but 
it  is  too  late  to  talk  out-of-doors  ;  let  us  go  in." 

As  she  passed  him  he  caught  her  hand  and  pressed  it 
to  his  heart  with  passionate  fervor,  then  hurried  away 
from  her.  He  walked  up  and  down  the  garden  paths,  a 
fever  of  impatience  in  his  heart  and  brain.  He  muttered 
to  himself  : 

"  It  is  more  than  mortal  man  can  endure  ;  I  must  get 
out  of  this." 

After  the  lights  had  disappeared  from  the  house,  he 
went  back  to  the  porch  and  lighted  his  pipe.  This 
seemed  to  allay  the  fierce  spirit  that  had  possession  of 
him.  At  last  he  rose,  and  as  if  stern  resolve  had  gained 
the  mastery,  he  said  aloud  : 

"  I  must  now  put  it  to  the  touch  ;  I  will  tell  her  like  a 
man  I  love  her,  and  like  a  man  abide  by  her  decision. 
Heaven  help  me  if  it  be  against  me  !  " 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A    STRANGER    AT    AIRLIE.^ 

HTHE  next  morning  Deborah  was  up  bright  and  early. 
As  soon  as  breakfast  was  over  she  climbed  into  her 
rockaway  and  started  old  John  towards  Ivanwold,  de- 
termined to  settle  the  agent  and  send  him  about  his 
business,  for  she  felt  confident  he  had  made  himself 
comfortable  during  her  absence  and  would  wait  till  she 
returned. 

It  was  churning  morning,  and  Robin  was  ready  to  go 
to  the  dairy  as  soon  as  the  butter  had  "  come,"  to  print 
it  and  get  it  ready  for  market.  All  the  long  night  she 
had  been  sleepless  and  miserable.  She  felt  that  the  time 
was  at  hand  when  she  must  face  Jared  and  his  unwel- 
come love,  when  she  must  tell  him  plainly  that  she  did 
not,  could  not  care  for  him,  and  that  he  must  leave  Air- 
lie.  But  how  could  she  tell  him  to  go  ?  she  asked  her- 
self. He  had  been  to  her  mother  devoted  and  faithful ; 
what  would  Dorothea  do  without  him  ?  where  would  she 
herself  find  any  one  to  take  his  place  ?  Then  she  tried 
to  picture,  as  she  snipped  off  the  little  squares  of  muslin 

22Q 


230  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

which  were  to  wrap  up  the  pats  of  butter,  what  sort  of  a 
man  would  attract  her  ;  what  sort  of  a  love  would  have 
power  to  win  her.  She  could  see  no  one  in  that  role. 
She  smiled  to  herself  half-proudly,  half-amusedly,  at  the 
thought  that  she  had  never  met  any  one  who  really  em- 
bodied her  idea  of  what  a  man  should  be.  He  certainly 
did  not  exist  in  that  neighborhood,  and  she  told  herself 
that  he  did  not  exist  for  her  at  all.  She  gathered  up  her 
butter-cloths  with  a  sigh  as  she  recalled  Jared  and  the 
interview  that  might  lurk  in  any  hour  of  the  day  before 
her.  She  entered  the  house  for  her  hat.  Dorothea, 
hearing  her  step,  called  to  her  : 

"  Robin,  I  want  to  speak  to  thee  ;  I  'm  in  the  dining- 
room." 

"  What  is  it,  mother  ? " 

Dorothea  looked  at  her  anxiously  and  silently  a  mo- 
ment, then  asked  without  preamble  or  hesitation  : 

"  Jared  has  told  thee  of  his  love  for  thee  ? " 

"  No,  mother,  but  he  will."  From  the  grave,  resolute 
way  in  which  she  met  her  mother's  glance  Dorothea  felt 
that  her  fears  were  confirmed. 

"  Thee  is  not  inclined  towards  Jared  ?  " 

"  No,  mother." 

"  Will  thee  tell  me  why,  daughter  ?  It  would  make 
me  very  peaceful  and  happy  to  see  thee  marry." 

"  Mother,  would  thee  advise  any  woman  to  marry  a  man 
whom  she  did  not  love  ?  with  whom  she  would  not  have 
a  single  congenial  thought  or  idea,  save  upon  farming  ?" 


A  STRANGER  AT  AIRLIE.  23! 

"  That  is  putting  the  case  too  strongly,  daughter  ; 
thee  and  Jared  have  seemed  to  have  many  ideas  in  com- 
mon this  past  winter.  Thee  must  remember  thee  has 
had  unusual  intellectual  advantages  ;  not  many  men 
even  have  had  such.  I  hope  I  am  not  going  to  live  to 
see  my  daughter  set  herself  above  those  among  whom 
she  has  grown  up.  There  are  few  men  better  calculated 
to  make  a  woman  happy  and  to  take  better  care  of  her 
than  Jared  Comly." 

"  Mother,  I  do  not  need  a  man  to  take  care  of  me  ;  I 
have  proved  that  I  can  do  that  for  myself." 

"  Does  thee  mean  that  because  thee  is  able  to  take 
care  of  thyself  thee  will  scorn  to  marry  a  good  man  ?  " 

"  No,  mother,  never  that.  I  think  a  happy  marriage 
is  the  most  beautiful  thing  that  can  come  to  a  woman, 
and  I  hope  it  will  come  to  me,"  she  said,  in  an  almost 
inaudible  voice. 

"  What  does  thee  expect  to  have  in  a  man,  Robin  ?  " 

"  A  man  with  mind,  mother  ;  a  man  who  can  enter 
the  world  of  thought,  of  idealism,  of  poetry  ;  who, 
though  his  hands  may  plough,  sow  and  reap,  may  yet 
have  a  purpose  far  above  them." 

"  A  man  of  mind,  thee  says,  and  where,  daughter,  will 
the  heart  be  ?  " 

"  Such  a  man,  if  he  exists,  has  a  heart,  and  none  other 
will  I  have.  I  would  rather  live  and  drudge  by  myself, 
with  my  books  as  recompense,  than  marry  such  a  man  as 
Jared,  honest  and  good  though  he  is." 


232  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

"  Alas  !  where  will  thee  find  thy  ideal,  daughter  ?  " 

"  I  shall  never  find  him,  mother.  He  is  out  in  the 
world  where  his  place  is.  He  is  not  shut  up  in  this 
little  corner  of  Maryland." 

"  I  fear  me  thee  will  never  marry,  but  I  cannot  urge 
thee  beyond  thy  freedom,  feeling  as  thee  does  ;  it  would 
not  be  right.  I  have  seen  for  some  time  that  Jared 
cared  for  thee,  and  I  thought  from  his  manner  he  had 
spoken.  Do  not  hurt  him  more  than  thee  can  help." 

"  I  would  spare  him  all  of  it,  mother,  if  I  could,  but 
he  has  rushed  upon  it.  I  have  tried  to  show  him,  as 
much  as  a  woman  can,  that  it  would  not  be  acceptable 
to  me  ;  but  Jared  is  headstrong  and  would  not  see. 
Thee  remembers  I  did  not  want  him  to  come  to  Airlie, 
mother  ;  I  feared  this  thing  long  ago." 

"  Why  did  thee  not  give  me  a  hint  at  first,  daughter  ? 
It  was  my  doing,  having  him  here." 

"  I  could  not  tell  thee  of  what  was  then  only  a  sus- 
picion ;  it  would  not  have  been  quite  fair  somehow." 

"  Poor  child  ;  thee  has  borne  thyself  well,  and  Jared 
has  a  heavy  load  to  carry." 

"  I  must  go,  mother  ;  it  is  time  I  was  getting  the 
butter  printed.  I  shall  not  be  able  to  finish  before 
dinner." 

The  morning  glided  by.  Dinner  passed  silently  ;  each 
at  the  table  was  too  full  of  painful  thoughts  and  antici- 
pations to  talk  much.  After  it  was  over  Jared  went  to 
see  that  the  machines  were  in  order  for  the  approaching 


A   STRANGER  AT  AIRLIE.  233 

harvest,  and  Robin  went  back  to  the  dairy  to  finish  the 
butter.  Dorothea  sat  in  the  shade  of  the  porch,  with  a 
favorite  book,  until  the  drowsy  afternoon  lulled  her 
into  a  nap  in  her  high-backed,  cushioned  chair.  She  did 
not  hear  the  clatter  of  horses'  hoofs  on  the  roadway  in 
the  lane,  nor  see  a  man  in  riding-dress  dismount,  hitch 
his  horse,  glance  rapidly  over  house  and  grounds,  then 
stride  towards  the  porch  where  he  had  caught  sight  of 
a  well-known  figure.  He  came  to  the  edge  of  the 
steps,  and  seeing  Dorothea  asleep  paused,  taking  in  the 
changes  that  trouble,  sorrow  and  ill-health  had  made. 
He  stepped  softly  up  on  the  porch,  but  not  softly 
enough.  Dorothea  opened  her  eyes  and  saw  the  strange, 
unfamiliar  figure  standing  before  her.  An  instant  of 
confusion  and  uncertainty  ;  then  making  a  move  to  rise 
to  her  feet  she  said  quietly  : 

"  Richard,  thee  has  come  at  last  ? " 

Dick's  arms  were  around  her  in  an  instant ;  then  she 
sank  back  into  her  chair.  Dick  bowed  his  head  and  cov- 
ered his  face  with  his  hands,  to  hide  the  tears  which 
sprang  to  his  eyes  for  the  first  time  in  years. 

He  was  pained  and  shocked  at  the  wreck  his  aunt 
seemed  to  him  to  be.  He  could  utter  no  word.  He 
dropped  down  upon  the  bench  by  the  side  of  her  chair, 
and  took  one  of  her  thin  hands  between  his,  while  she 
continued  to  gaze  at  him. 

"  Richard,  thee  has  really  come  ? "  was  all  Dorothea 
could  say. 


234  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

"  Yes,  Aunt  Dorothy,  I  have  really  come." 

"  What  brought  thee  home  ? " 

"  You  and  little  Robin." 

Dorothea  looked  doubtingly  at  him,  then  smiled  sadly. 
Dick  noticed  the  sad  smile  and  said  quickly  : 

"Aunt  Dorothy,  I  heard  of  the  changes  here  at  Airlie 
for  the  first  time  this  past  April,  and  through  Henry 
Standish,  whom  I  met  accidentally  in  Heidelberg.  He 
told  me  the  particulars  of  uncle's  death,  and  of  the 
incumbrances  on  the  farm.  I  immediately  closed  up 
my  work  and  came  home.  Why  did  you  never  tell  me 
of  the  debts  ?  You  know  every  thing  I  have  is  yours." 

"  Ah  !  Richard  thy  words  do  me  good.  I  knew  there 
was  a  mistake  somewhere  ;  I  felt  sure  thee  had  not 
changed  toward  us.  But  all  through  the  dreadful  weeks 
of  Gilbert's  illness  I  had  no  heart  to  write.  Afterwards  I 
was  ill.  Deborah  told  me  she  had  written  and  laid  the 
whole  condition  of  affairs  before  thee.  Time  went  on 
and  we  heard  nothing  from  thee  ;  so " 

"  Just  as  I  felt  sure  ;  her  letters  were  the  forwarded 
ones  I  never  received.  Never  mind,  dear  aunt,  I  have 
not  changed,  and  I  am  home  again  to  take  affairs  in 
hand.  Have  you  kept  a  place  for  your  boy  ?  "  and  he 
looked  eagerly  into  her  face  as  he  used  to  do  years 
before  ;  though  there  was  little  in  the  bronzed  face  of 
the  man  to  remind  her  of  the  boy  who  had  been  so  long 
away. 

"  When  did  thee  come,  Richard  ?  " 


A  STRANGER  AT  AIRLIE.  2$$ 

"  Last  night,  in  the  stage." 

"  When  did  thee  land  ?  " 

"  Only  on  Saturday," 

"  Is  thee  going  to  stay  in  thy  home  now  ?  "  Dorothea 
asked  falteringly,  as  she  tightened  her  hand  upon  Dick's. 

"  I  am  going  to  stay  as  long  as  you  or  Robin  want 
me,"  he  replied  ;  then  he  said  eagerly  :  "  But  where  is  my 
little  cousin,  my  little  playfellow,  who  was  so  anxious  to 
grow  up  a  man  ;  did  she  ever  get  over  that  notion, 
aunt  ? " 

"  Never  ;  and,  Richard,  I  suppose  thee  knows  she  is 
farming  ?  " 

"  Yes."     A  flush  rose  to  Dick's  cheek  at  the  thought. 

"  I  will  send  for  Robin  ;  she  went  to  the  dairy  after 
dinner,"  said  Dorothea. 

"  Never  mind,  I  will  go  in  search  of  her.  I  am 
anxious  to  see  if  she  will  know  me  again.  Am  I  much 
changed  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  doubt  if  Robin  will  know  thee  at  all." 

"  You  knew  me,  aunt." 

"  Yes,  but  Robin  was  a  mere  child  when  thee  went 
away,  and  thee  comes  back  much  bronzed  and  with  a 
different  look  about  thee."  Dick  rose,  saying  : 

"  I  will  go  in  search  of  her  "  ;  and  he  turned  toward 
the  well  remembered  dairy-field.  Dorothea  called  after 
him  : 

"  Don't  be  long  away,  Richard." 

Dick  swung  open  the  gate  and  tramped   down    the 


236  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

familiar  zigzag  path.  He  was  surprised  to  find  how 
much  he  was  moved  at  the  idea  of  seeing  his  little  play- 
fellow again.  When  he  got  to  the  bottom  of  the  meadow, 
and  had  stepped  over  the  little  stream  which  separated 
him  from  the  dairy,  he  paused  a  moment  hesitatingly  ; 
then  opened  the  gate.  Milk-pans  and  buckets  stood 
all  about  on  the  damp  bricks.  A  row  of  stone  crocks 
was  turned  down  to  drain,  while  the  spring  which  flowed 
through  the  cemented  dairy-troughs  fell  over  the  stones 
just  outside  with  a  soothing,  murmuring  sound. 

The  click  of  the  gate  brought  Robin  from  the  cool, 
half-darkened  stone  building.  Her  eyes  fell  upon  the 
stranger,  standing  hat  in  hand  just  within  the  gate. 
She  looked  surprised  ;  then  a  slight  flush  rose  to  her 
face,  as  he  did  not  speak  nor  make  himself  known. 
Dick  stood  motionless,  gazing  at  the  tall,  grave  girl  who 
confronted  him.  Was  this  his  little  cousin  who  had 
thrown  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  clung  to  him  when 
he  went  away  years  ago  ?  he  asked  himself ;  and  his 
eyes  took  in  the  soft  hair,  with  the  little  ripples  on  the 
temples,  the  deep  eyes  looking  straight  into  his  own, 
with  a  half-haughty,  half -inquiring  expression  in  them. 
The  awkward  pause  was  broken  at  last.  She  stepped 
forward  and  said  simply  : 

"  I  am  Miss  Elgar  ;  were  you  in  search  of  me  ?  " 
"  No,  I  am  not  looking  for  Miss  Elgar  ;  I  am  looking 
for  my  little  cousin  Robin,  whom  I  came  from  Germany 
to  find,  but  she  is  not  here." 


.      A   STRANGER  AT   AIRLIE.  237 

"  Your  little  cousin  Robin  ? "  she  repeated  falteringly  ; 
then,  coming  a  step  nearer,  she  exclaimed  :  "  Who,  then, 
are  you  ? "  and  before  he  could  reply  she  hurried  forward, 
with  outstretched  hands  and  a  radiant  face  of  welcome  : 
"  It  is  Dick  !  " 

Dick  took  her  hands  and  held  them,  then  suddenly 
bent  his  head  and  softly  touched  her  cheek  with  his 
lips.  The  caress,  light  though  it  was,  sent  the  hot 
color  surging  over  his  face  ;  he  felt  that  he  had  perhaps 
transcended  the  privilege  of  a  cousin,  and  glanced  hur- 
riedly into  her  face,  but  it  was  as  unconscious  as  a  child's, 
and  was  turned  to  his  with  joy  and  excitement  beaming 
in  every  lineament.  She  still  held  his  hands  and  said 
eagerly  and  rapidly  :  "  Oh,  Dick  !  is  it  thee,  really  ? 
When  did  thee  come  ?  has  thee  seen  mother  ?  is  thee  go- 
ing to  stay  ?  Oh,  Kane  !  "  she  called  out,  as  she  caught 
sight  of  Kane  coming  slowly  down  the  hill  toward  them, 
"see,  here  's  Mr.  Dick  come  home." 

Dick  turned  and  saw  the  crippled  form  dragging  itself 
toward  them.  Here  was  a  terrible  change,  he  said  to 
himself.  He  shook  Kane's  hand  heartily. 

"  'Deed,  Mr.  Dick,  we  mos'  thought  you  'd  clean 
done  forgot  us.  We  's  right  glad  to  have  you  home 
again." 

"  And  I  was  never  so  glad  in  my  life  as  I  am  to  be 
home  again,  Kane,"  Dick  said. 

"  Kane,  you  finish  here,  I  '11  go  with  Mr.  Dick  to  the 
house."  She  picked  up  her  hat  from  the  table  in  the 


238  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

dairy.  Dick  held  the  gate  open  for  her,  and  they  went 
up  the  path  to  the  house. 

"  Am  I  so  changed,  Robin,  after  all  ? " 

"  Yes,  the  moustache  and  the  scar  on  thy  cheek  alter 
thee  very  much  "  ;  and  she  glanced  inquiringly  at  it,  then 
went  on  :  "  But  thy  hair  and  eyes  are  the  same  ;  I  'd 
have  known  thy  eyes  anywhere." 

"  But  you  did  not,  all  the  same  ;  you  gazed  as  haughtily 
into  them  as  you  could.  As  for  you,  my  little  cousin," 
and  Dick  turned  towards  her,  as  if  he  were  going  to  put 
into  words  the  sudden  thrill  of  admiration  her  beauty 
and  unconsciousness  had  evoked  ;  but  when  he  met  her 
face,  turned  to  him  as  if  she  expected  to  hear  merely 
that  she  had  grown,  he  checked  the  nattering  words  and 
said  :  "  Well,  my  little  cousin  has  grown  out  of  my  recol- 
lection. I  left  her  a  little  girl,  and  I  find  her  a  very 
much  grown-up  young  woman.  Do  you  remember  you 
said  you  would  be  almost  as  big  a  man  as  I  when  I  got 
back  ? " 

"  Yes,  Dick,  and  I  am,"  she  said  smilingly,  as  she  drew 
herself  up  to  her  full  height  and  swept  her  eyes  over  the 
old  home,  the  fields  of  waving  grain  and  the  cattle  stand- 
ing in  the  shade  of  the  trees  in  the  dairy  meadow  :  all 
hers,  and  saved  from  the  hands  of  the  sheriff  by  her  own 
exertions.  It  flashed  through  her  mind  that  she  had  per- 
haps, in  her  way,  done  as  much  in  the  world  as  Dick 
himself,  and  she  glanced  furtively  at  him,  taking  in  the 
faultless  dress,  the  distinguished  bearing  of  the  man  at 


A   STRANGER   AT   AIRLIE.  239 

her  side.  A  feeling  began  to  creep  over  her  before  they 
reached  the  upper  gate,  that  this  was  a  new  Dick  ;  not 
the  reckless,  daring  cousin  of  old,  around  whom  her 
childish  fancies  had  clung,  but  a  man  with  an  atmos- 
phere of  strangeness  about  him,  an  air  of  reserve  and 
power,  of  culture,  an  indefinable  something  that  belonged 
to  a  world  of  which  she  had  no  knowledge.  There  was 
a  slight  reaction  from  the  joy  she  had  experienced  when 
she  first  recognized  and  greeted  her  cousin.  She  said  to 
herself  with  an  inward  sigh  :  "  It  is  not  Dick,  but  a 
stranger." 

When  they  reached  the  porch,  and  she  saw  the  delight 
and  pride  upon  her  mother's  face,  her  undefined  sense  of 
disappointment  was  swallowed  up  and  lost  sight  of  for 
the  time.  Dick  seated  himself  at  his  aunt's  side  upon  the 
bench,  and  said  gayly  : 

"  Neither  of  us  knew  the  other,  Aunt  Dorothy.  I  can- 
not believe  this  is  the  same  Robin  who  sat  on  the  fence 
and  saw  Comanche  Dick  throw  me." 

"  Oh,  Dick  !  Comanche  is  in  the  stable  now." 

"  You  must  take  me  to  see  him,  Robin,"  Dick  said. 

"That  reminds  me,"  said  Dorothea,  "Deborah  went 
away  from  here  this  morning,  fully  persuaded  that  an 
agent  had  arrived  at  Ivanwold  last  night,  and  she  was 
going  to  get  rid  of  him  in  great  speed.  What  did  she  do 
when  she  saw  who  her  supposed  agent  was,  Richard  ?  " 

"  Cousin  Deborah's  face  was  a  study  when  she  finally 
knew  me  ;  but  like  you,  aunt,  she  is  not  reconciled  to  my 


240  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

appearance.  She  says  I  look  like  a  foreigner.  What 
can  I  do  to  convince  her  I  am  still  an  American  ? " 
asked  Dick.  But  Dorothea  interposed  : 

"  Richard,  I  hear  thee  has  become  a  distinguished 
scientific  man." 

"  Far  from  distinguished,  aunt,  but  I  am  interested  in 
science,  heart  and  soul." 

Then  followed  a  brief  sketch  of  his  work,  of  the  Ger- 
man university  town  where  he  had  lived,  of  his  travels 
and  expeditions.  His  enthusiasm  of  voice  and  manner 
showed  the  love  of  the  scholar  for  his  work,  and  his  ob- 
servations showed  that  he  was  something  of  a  philoso- 
pher. Dorothea  was  pleased  with  his  manner,  which  was 
a  mixture  of  the  elaborate  politeness  of  the  Germans  of 
the  upper  class  and  the  old-fashioned  courtesy  of  her 
own  early  days. 

"  We  shall  be  proud  of  thee,  my  boy  ;  indeed  I  am 
proud  of  thee  now,"  she  said  as  she  glanced  fondly  at  him. 

Dick  at  last  brought  the  conversation  round  to  his 
uncle's  death.  The  daughter  slipped  away,  leaving  her 
mother  to  recount,  in  her  tender  way,  the  sorrows  and 
changes  of  the  past  few  years.  Robin  gave  a  few  mo- 
ments' attention  to  the  tea-table,  gathered  a  few  special 
flowers  with  which  to  deck  it  in  honor  of  Dick's  presence, 
then  she  changed  her  print  gown  of  the  morning  for  the 
mull  gown  her  mother  had  admired  the  day  before.  As 
she  appeared  again  in  the  doorway,  Dick  rose  quickly  to 
his  feet  and  placed  a  chair  for  her.  Something  in  the 


A   STRANGER  AT   AIRLIE.  241 

action  arrested  her  attention.  It  was  not  by  any  means 
more  than  other  men  in  the  neighborhood  were  in  the 
habit  of  doing,  but  there  was  a  queer,  elaborate  formality 
about  it  which  was  unusual,  but  which  seemed  perfectly 
natural  to  her  cousin.  She  thought  to  herself  :  "  How 
much  manner  Dick  has  ;  he  is  quite  unlike  any  man  I 
ever  saw  before ;  decidedly  foreign.  I  wonder  what 
Harmony  will  think  of  him  ?  " 

Just  then  Jared  rode  round  from  the  stable  in  his 
shirt-sleeves.  Knowing  of  no  visitors,  he  crossed  the 
grass  on  his  horse  and  leisurely  approached  the  railing 
of  the  porch.  When,  too  late,  he  discovered  the  pres- 
ence of  a  stranger,  a  dark  frown  gathered  upon  his  face, 
as  his  keen  eyes  took  in  with  a  comprehensive  glance 
the  unusual-looking  man  who  was  making  himself  so 
much  at  home  on  the  porch.  There  was  a  moment  of 
awkward  silence,  broken  finally  by  Dorothea,  who  said  : 

"  Richard,  let  me  make  thee  acquainted  with  our 
friend,  Jared  Comly,  who  lives  with  us.  Jared,  this  is 
our  cousin,  Richard  Elgar,  who'has  just  returned  home." 

Dick  stepped  forward  to  the  railing,  bowing  pleasantly 
and  at  the  same  time  extending  his  hand.  Jared,  with  a 
decided  scowl  on  his  face,  merely  lifted  his  straw  hat, 
with  the  slightest  possible  bend  of  the  head  ;  then  turn- 
ing in  his  saddle  said  to  Robin  abruptly  : 

"  I  've  just  found  out  that  something  about  the  reaper 
is  out  of  order.  One  of  the  levers  will  not  work  ;  I 
must  ride  to  Airlie  about  it.  We  may  not  be  able  to 
16 


242  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

begin  the  wheat  to-morrow  till  noon,  but  it  won't  matter 
much." 

"  I  do  not  agree  with  thee  about  it  not  mattering.  If 
we  can  possibly  begin  in  the  morning,  I  think  it  will  be 
best." 

"  Well,  we  can't  begin  reaping  with  a  broken  machine, 
no  matter  how  long  we  have  to  wait,"  he  curtly  returned. 
With  a  half  nod  over  his  shoulder  to  Dicky  he  cantered 
over  the  grass.  Robin  called  to  him  : 

"  Jared,  please  tell  Bill  to  take  Mr.  Elgar's  horse  and 
put  it  up." 

Something  in  the  tone  or  something  in  the  order  sent 
the  dark  blood  to  Jared 's  cheek.  Without  turning  his 
head,  he  rode  straight  past  the  rack  where  the  horse 
stood  and  clattered  down  the  roadway.  Dick  glanced 
swiftly  at  his  cousin,  who  stood  watching  the  retreating 
horseman  with  an  indignant  light  in  her  eyes.  He  said 
to  himself  : 

"  Comly  is  a  brute,  and  she  knows  it.  Luckily  I  am 
not  too  late."  Then  he  said  to  his  cousin  lightly  :  "  It 
is  not  worth  while  to  put  up  the  horse  ;  I  am  going  to 
Ivanwold  very  soon." 

"  No,  Richard,  thee  must  stay  overnight  with  us  ;  I 
cannot  let  thee  go  so  soon,"  said  Dorothea. 

"  I  must  go  back  to-night  after  tea,  dear  aunt,  but  I 
shall  be  here  early  in  the  morning.  In  fact,  I  am  going 
to  be  here  every  morning,  if  you  will  let  me,"  he  said, 
addressing  his  aunt,  but  looking  his  cousin  in  the  eyes. 


A   STRANGER  AT  AIRLIE.  243 

"  Of  course,  Dick,"  Robin  replied  frankly  to  his  ques- 
tioning eyes.  Dorothea  then  asked,  in  a  troubled  tone  : 

"Will  Jared  be  back  to  tea,  does  thee  think,  daughter  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  mother  ;  I  presume  not."  She 
smiled  faintly  to  herself  as  she  recognized  another  of 
Jared's  moods,  and  fancied  that  the  presence  of  her 
cousin  was  the  immediate  cause.  She  was  mortified  that 
he  should  have  shown  Dick  such  scant  courtesy,  and  felt 
sure  that  Dick  would  set  it  down  to  country  boorishness. 
And  there  suddenly  sprang  up  in  her  heart  a  desire  that 
her  cousin  should  think  well  of  them  at  Airlie,  that  he 
should  stay  among  them.  And  yet  how  could  she  expect 
a  man  of  his  experience,  his  travel  and  culture,  to  put  up 
with  a  quiet  country  neighborhood  where  the  Farmers' 
Club  and  the  Horticultural  Meetings  were  the  social 
features,  varied  now  and  then  by  lectures  or  readings  at 
the  Lyceum  ?  or,  when  in  a  special  whirl  of  gayety,  a 
sociable  or  a  fox-hunt  was  considered  the  extreme  of 
dissipation  ?  Dick  would  stand  it  as  long  as  he  could, 
then  he  would  take  himself  off  for  good.  Arrived  at  this 
point  in  her  thoughts  she  sighed. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  my  grave  cousin  ?  "  Dick 
asked,  as  he  came  and  leaned  on  the  railing  by  her  side. 

"  I  am  wondering,  Dick,  how  thee  will  ever  put  up  with 
the  dulness,  the  stupidity  of  the  country,  for  I  assume 
that  thee  has  come  to  stay,"  she  said  as  she  looked  at  him 
earnestly,  almost  appealingly.  Dick  looked  gravely  at  her 
for  a  moment,  then  said  slowly  in  a  tone  of  conviction  : 


244  GILBERT  ELGAR*S  SON. 

"  I  have  come  to  stay."  There  was  a  slight  pause, 
then  he  went  on  :  "  You  cannot  conceive,  Robin,  how 
beautiful,  how  exquisite  and  peaceful  this  neighborhood 
seemed  to  me  to-day,  as  I  rode  up  the  familiar  road  and 
past  the  well-known  places.  I  had  forgotten  it  was  so 
beautiful.  And  although  I  have  only  been  one  short 
afternoon  at  Airlie,"  he  added,  with  a  sudden  light  leap- 
ing to  his  eyes,  "  I  feel  that  I  do  not  want  to  leave  it 
again." 

"  Oh,  Dick  !  thee  does  my  heart  good.  I  had  not 
known  how  lonely  we  were  until  I  heard  thee  talk  with 
mother  this  afternoon  about  dear  father  "  ;  and  she  laid 
her  hand  lightly  on  Dick's  arm.  Dick  quickly  laid  his 
hand  over  hers,  and  said  in  a  low  voice  : 

"  Poor  little  cousin  !  " 

Then  they  went  off  into  recollections  of  childish  days ; 
and  with  a  "  Do  you  remember  that  day  ?  "  or  "  Has  thee 
forgotten  the  afternoon  ?  "  the  early  twilight  fell. 

It  was  late  that  night  when  Dick  swung  himself  into 
his  saddle  and  turned  homewards.  He  started  off  in  a 
brisk  trot,  but  soon  the  lines  fell  upon  his  horse's  neck, 
and  the  animal,  lending  himself  to  his  master's  mood, 
came  down  to  a  slow  walk.  Dick  was  in  a  profound 
reverie.  He  took  no  note  of  houses  or  trees  as  they 
loomed  up  in  the  soft  summer  night.  His  mind  was 
full  of  one  theme  :  Robin,  little  Robin,  whom  he  had 
thought,  in  Germany,  it  might  be  well  for  Standish  to 
marry. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

"  PRESSED    BEYOND    HER    FREEDOM." 

'"THE  news  of  Dick's  return  spread  rapidly  through  the 
neighborhood,  and  many  startling  reports  were  soon 
put  in  circulation  concerning  him.  Thaddy  was  very 
industrious  in  listening  to  all  that  was  going  the  rounds 
and  in  repeating  the  same  to  every  one  he  met.  He 
hurried  to  The  Hatch  the  second  day  after  Dick's  return, 
full  of  the  gossip  concerning  the  new  arrival. 

"  Miss  Harm'ny,  have  you  heard  the  news  !  "  he  called 
out,  as  he  hitched  his  horse  under  a  tree  on  the  lawn. 

"  What  news  ?  "  she  called  back  from  the  porch. 

"Why,  Dick  Elgar  's  come  home." 

"Yes,  I  knew  he  was  coming,"  she  replied,  tapping  a 
letter  she  held  in  her  hand. 

"You  knew  he  was  comin'  an'  kep'  it  to  yourself? 
I  '11  bet  you  a  levy  I  knew  it  firs'.  Who  tol'  you  ?  "  he 
asked,  curiosity  shining  in  every  line  of  his  face. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,"  she  replied,  smiling. 

Harmony  held  a  letter  from  Standish,  written  upon  his 
arrival  in  New  York,  and  recounting  his  meeting  with 

245 


246  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

Dick  in  Germany  ;  telling  also  of  the  extraordinary 
revelations  he  had  been  obliged  to  make  concerning  the 
Airlie  people,  and  of  the  sudden  resolve  upon  Elgar's 
part  to  accompany  him  home.  And  he  wound  up  by 
announcing  his  own  speedy  arrival  in  the  neighborhood, 
by  which  time  he  hoped  she  would  take  back  her  opinion 
that  "  Dick  Elgar  was  a  selfish  brute."  This  letter  had 
brought  a  flush  of  expectation  to  Harmony's  face,  but 
she  knew  she  could  not  mention  to  Thaddy  that  she  had 
had  the  news  from  Henry  Standish,  for  Thaddy  had  a 
long  tongue,  and  would  babble  it  to  every  one  in  the 
neighborhood. 

"  Come,  now,  Miss  Harm'ny,  who  tol'  you  'bout  Dick 
Elgar?"  Thaddy  said,  eying  the  envelope,  which  was 
directed  in  a  large,  bold  hand.  Harmony  shook  her 
head  teasingly. 

'*  Miss  Harm'ny,  some  man  's  been  writin'  you  ;  I 
know  by  the  han',"  and  a  jealous  pang  shot  through  him. 
"  Hang  it  all,  who  is  it  ?  I  '11  bet  it  's  Stan'ish.  I 
always  thought  he  was  sneakin'  roun'  here  for  somethin'." 

"  Never  mind  who  it  is,  but  tell  me,  is  Mr.  Elgar 
handsome  ?  " 

"  Don'  know  ;  s'pose  women  'd  think  'im  han'some  ; 
he  's  got  blue  eyes,  an'  red  hair,  an'  is  thun'erin'  big," 
he  replied  sulkily,  still  eying  the  letter. 

"  Aha  !  Mr.  Thaddy,  you  are  jealous  of  the  new  cous- 
in's good  looks.  You  fear  you  will  be  less  welcome  at 
Airlie  hereafter." 


PRESSED   BEYOND   HER   FREEDOM.  247 

"  My  goo'ness,  Miss  Harm'ny,  you  know  Miss  Rob 
won'  look  at  me.  I  'm  not  jealous  of  Elgar,  but  I  'm 
jealous  of  that  letter  you  hoi'  in  your  han'.  An'  besides, 
if  I  were  in  love  with  Miss  Rob,  her  cousin  would  n' 
matter,  for  cousins  don'  marry  among  the  Frien's." 

"  But  you  forget  they  are  only  second  or  third  cousins, 
and  it  is  only  first  cousins  who  do  not  marry." 

"  Oh,  well,  I  don'  wan'  to  marry  Miss  Rob  ;  she 
knows  too  much.  Now  when  it  comes  to  you,  Miss 
Harm'ny " 

"  Thank  you,  don't  mention  it,"  she  said,  making  him 
a  sweeping  bow. 

"  Miss  Harm'ny,  you  don'  bluff  me  off  that  way. 
You  know  I  did  n'  mean  any  thin',  'cep'  I  'm  awful  gone 
on  you  ;  but  you  pick  a  fella'  up  so  sharp." 

"  You  say  you  are  gone  ?  I  wish  I  could  believe  it," 
she  wickedly  said,  and  laughed  as  she  watched  the 
meaning  slowly  dawn  upon  him. 

"  Oh,  now,  you  're  laughin'.  I  won'er  why  women 
always  laugh  when  I  tell  'em " 

"  You  're  gone  on  them  ?  "  she  supplied. 

"  Hang  it  all,  I  've  been  sayin'  it  to  you  mos'  every 
week  for  a  year,  an"  I  don'  seem  to  make  youb'lieveme." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  believe  you.  So  did  Robin  when  you  told 
her  the  same  thing  a  year  ago,  and  so  did  Janet  Wharton 
when  you  told  her  last  winter  you  adored  her." 

"  I  say,  Miss  Harm'ny,  you  mus'  n'  think  you  can 
craw-fish  out  of  it  that  way." 


248  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

"  Come,  Mr.  Watkins,  I  'm  tired  of  this  conversation  ; 
and  besides,  you  came  here  for  the  express  purpose  of 
retailing  me  the  news  about  Robin's  cousin,  and  you 
have  not  told  me  any  thing,  save  that  he  's  big  and  has 
red  hair.  What  an  odious  description." 

"Yes,  an'  they  say  he  's  come  back  an  awful  swell, 
with  queer  fo'eign  manners." 

"  I  do  not  believe  it,"  she  replied,  thinking  of  all  that 
Standish  had  told  her  of  Dick,  and  having  full  faith 
in  her  informant's  opinions. 

Just  then  the  Captain  appeared.  "  How  are  you,  Wat- 
kins  ? "  he  said  heartily.  "  I  see  you  have  your  horse  here  ; 
suppose  you  ride  down  with  me  to  call  upon  Richard 
Elgar — unless  you  have  been  ?  "  he  inquiringly  added. 

"  All  right,  I  'd  like  nothin'  better." 

"  Harmony,  my  daughter,  when  did  Standish  say  he 
would  be  here  ?  I  see  you  still  have  his  letter." 

"  Ah,  Miss  Harm'ny,  murder  will  out.  I  knew  't  was 
Stan'ish,"  Thaddy  said  delightedly,  as  he  noted  the 
annoyance  that  her  face  expressed  at  her  father's  inno-. 
cent  betrayal. 

"  Dear  me,  have  I  let  out  any  thing  that  I  ought  not, 
Harmony  ? "  the  Captain  asked  anxiously. 

"  Yes,  father,  as  usual,  but  never  mind.  While  you 
are  away  at  Ivanwold,  I  will  drive  over  to  Airlie.  Robin 
was  to  begin  harvesting  to-day,  but  I  may  catch  her  for 
a  few  moments  just  about  sundown.  If  I  am  late  getting 
back  ride  over  for  me,  father." 


PRESSED   BEYOND   HER   FREEDOM.  249 

"I  will,  daughter." 

Meanwhile  the  morning  of  that  same  day  had  dawned 
upon  Dick,  and  found  him  very  impatient  and  restless. 
He  had  determined  to  go  to  Airlie  and  have  a  long  busi- 
ness talk  with  aunt  and  cousin,  and,  if  possible,  make 
some  arrangement  promptly  which  would  prevent  Robin 
from  going  through  the  harvest  in  person.  As  soon  as 
he  had  breakfasted  Deborah  said  to  him  : 

"  Now,  Dick,  thee  must  take  to-day  and  go  all  over  the 
place.  I  have  done  the  best  I  could  all  these  years  thee 
has  been  away,  and  I  think  things  look  fairly  well." 

"  Deborah,  will  not  to-morrow  do  ?  I  am  very  anxious 
to  get  off  early  this  morning." 

"  Where  's  thee  going  ?  " 

"I  am  going  to  Airlie  ;  I  want  to  look  into  affairs 
there,  and  I  am  going  to  make  arrangements  to  pay  off 
the  mortgage  and  all  other  debts.  Then  I  am  going  to 
put  at  their  disposal  an  income  which  will  forever  do 
away  with  the  necessity  for  my  cousin  working  in  the 
fields  like  a  laborer." 

"  Go  lightly,  Dick  ;  I  'd  advise  thee  to  do  things  in 
less  speed.  Robin  is  as  proud  as  Lucifer,  and  refused  all 
aid  at  the  time  of  her  father's  death." 

"  That  was  natural,  but  I  am  the  head  of  the  family  ; 
it  is  my  right  to  help  them,  and  I  do  not  choose  that 
they  should  be  in  poverty  at  Airlie  when  I  have  more 
than  I  know  what  to  do  with."  And  Dick  moved  rest- 
lessly about  the  room. 


250  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

"  But,  Dick,  to-morrow  will  be  time  enough  to  go  to 
Airlie.  I  think  thy  own  home  needs  thy  attention  first." 

"  No,  Deborah,  to-morrow  will  not  *be  time  enough  ;  I 
heard  Robin  say  she  was  going  to  reap  to-day  and  I 
must  get  there  early." 

"  Dick,  thee  can  no  more  prevent  her  from  reaping 
than  thee  can  prevent  the  grain  from  ripening.  And  I 
warn  thee,  cousin,  she  will  not  accept  thy  money." 

"  But,  Deborah,  why  will  she  not  ?  " 

"  Because  she  has  the  same  pride  thee  has  ;  the  same 
pride  that  a  man  has  about  accepting  any  gift  of  money." 

"  But  she  must  remember  her  mother.  Just  think 
what  change  of  air  and  scene  might  do  for  Aunt  Doro- 
thea. Robin  would  have  no  right  to  refuse  aid." 

"  Try  it,  and  see  for  thyself.  But  what  does  thee  think 
of  her,  Dick  ?  " 

Dick  did  not  reply.  He  could  not,  lest  Deborah 
should  have  cause  to  open  her  eyes  in  amazement  and 
pronounce  him  mad. 

'*  Thee  is  disappointed  in  her,  Dick  ;  I  can  see  it  in 
thy  face."  An  odd  expression  came  into  his  eyes,  as  he 
answered,  slowly : 

"  No,  that  is  not  it ;  I  am  not  disappointed,  but  I  can- 
not express  my  opinion,  or  impression  exactly." 

Deborah  said  no  more.  She  was  sure  that  Dick  was 
disappointed  ;  perhaps  he  disapproved  of  Robin  in  some 
way,  but  would  not  give  utterance  to  it.  She  shut  her 
lips  together  in  a  firm  way,  as  she  thought  how  little  any 


PRESSED    BEYOND   HER   FREEDOM.  251 

one  seemed  to  appreciate  Robin,  unless  it  was  Jared, 
whom  she  feared  the  girl  would  marry.  She  determined 
to  speak  her  mind  to  Dick  : 

"  Dick,  I  have  something  on  my  mind  ;  I  should  like 
to  talk  to  thee  a  little  about  thy  cousin." 

"  Very  well,  Deborah  ;  speak  frankly.  I  have  been 
gone  so  long  that  any  light  you  can  give  me  will  be  wel- 
come." And  he  prepared  himself  to  listen. 

"  Well,  to  begin  with,  Robin  is  a  very  unusual  girl. 
She  has  had  an  unusual  education,  and  she  has  been 
placed  by  circumstances  which  thee  knows  of  in  a  very 
trying  position.  Jared  Comly  wants  to  marry  her,  and  I 
am  sure  that  Dorothea  would  be  pleased  if  Robin  accepts 
him.  Jared  is  a  good,  honest  fellow,  but  he  has  a  temper 
and  is  moody.  I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would 
speak  to  Dorothea  when  I  was  there  the  other  day,  but 
I  believe  I  will  enlist  thee  in  the  cause.  Robin  must  not 
marry  Jared." 

"  Do  you  think  my  cousin  cares  for  him  ?  "  Dick  put 
this  question  carelessly. 

"  No,  she  does  n't  care  for  any  man  living.  Jared  is 
not  the  man  to  attract  her,  I  am  certain  ;  but  thee  knows 
that  almost  any  man  can  marry  a  woman  if  he  only  hangs 
on  long  enough.  Women  are  such  fools  that  they  often 
let  themselves  be  worried  into  it." 

"  By  the  way,  Deborah,  did  you  ever  know  Henry 
Standish  ? "  Dick  asked,  without  seeming  to  pay  atten- 
tion to  Deborah's  remark. 


GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

"  Yes.  He  comes  down  here  pretty  often,  and  we  all 
think  here  in  the  neighborhood  that  he  has  a  certain 
purpose  in  coming." 

Instantly  there  rushed  back  upon  Dick  the  recollection 
of  Standish's  glowing  tributes  to  his  cousin,  and  he 
remembered  how  he  had  complacently  thought  it  might 
be  a  good  thing  for  little  Robin  to  marry  Standish.  He 
felt  a  sudden  dread  that  Deborah  was  about  to  confirm 
his  suspicion,  but  he  asked  indifferently  : 

"  May  I  ask  what  purpose  Standish  is  supposed  to  have 
in  coming  to  this  neighborhood  ? " 

"  We  do  not  know  surely,  but  we  think  he  wants  to 
marry  Harmony  Esten.  He  stays  at  The  Hatch,  and  is 
very  devoted  to  her." 

"  Indeed  ?   Are  you  sure  there  is  no  other  attraction  ? " 

"  What  other  attraction  could  there  be  to  a  man  of  his 
calibre,  in  a  country  neighborhood  ?  Thee  may  be  sure 
it  is  no  love  of  nature  that  brings  him  ;  and  he  is  a  shade 
too  stylish  and  worldly  to  fancy  our  country  girls.  Oh, 
it  is  Harmony,  beyond  doubt." 

"  Well,  Deborah,  Standish  will  be  here  at  Ivan  wold  the 
last  of  the  week,  and  I  heartily  wish  him  God-speed  in 
his  wooing."  Dick  tossed  his  hat  lightly  in  the  air, 
catching  it  on  the  end  of  his  riding  stick. 

"  Mercy  alive  !  Dick,  why  does  thee  bring  Henry  Stan- 
dish  here  so  soon  ?  I  thought  I  was  going  to  have  thee 
to  myself  for  a  time.  That  's  just  like  a  man  ;  but  if 
thee  's  going  to  Airlie  to-day  thee  'd  better  be  off," 


PRESSED    BEYOND   HER   FREEDOM.  253 

"  I  won't  have  time  now  to  go  and  get  back  again 
before  dinner,  so  1  will  go  immediately  afterwards. 
Meanwhile  I  will  have  a  look  through  the  stables." 

He  started  off  with  a  light  step  and  a  gay  whistle. 
Deborah  looked  after  him,  and  said  to  herself  :  "  Dick 
is  still  a  good  deal  of  a  boy,  for  all  his  sabre-cut,  and  his 
foreign  travel.  I  wonder  what  he  is  going  to  do  with 
himself  ?  and  I  wonder  where  in  Christendom  I  '11  find 
room  for  all  the  bits  of  rock,  stones  and  trash  he  's 
brought  home  with  him  ?  He  's  for  all  the  world  like 
his  father — poor  Henry  !  " 

Later  in  the  day  Dick  dismounted  at  Airlie.  He  found 
his  aunt  waiting  for  him,  in  the  cool  sitting-room.  The 
hot  June  sun  had  driven  her  in  from  her  favorite  place 
on  the  porch. 

"  Why,  Richard,  I  've  been  expecting  thee  since  early 
this  morning,"  she  said  in  an  anxious  tone. 

"  I  tried  to  get  here,  dear  aunt,"  he  said,  bending  to 
kiss  her  hands,  "  but  Deborah  had  so  much  to  talk  over 
that  I  was  delayed.  But  where  is  my  cousin  ? " 

"  Robin  began  harvesting  to-day  in  earnest.  She  is 
somewhere  out  in  the  wheat-field."  A  frown  gathered 
upon  Dick's  face. 

"  Aunt  Dorothy,  I  know  it  is  not  for  me  to  dictate  or 
blame,  but  how  can  you  consent  to  Robin's  working  as 
she  does,  among  rough  men,  and  in  this  blazing  sun  ?" 

"  Richard,  I  know  it  seems  terrible,  but  when  Robin 
took  the  farm  there  seemed  to  be  no  other  way  to  work 


254  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

it,  unless  upon  shares,  and  she  was  very  determined  not 
to  have  any  one  in  that  way.  I  should  be  heartily  glad 
if  there  were  any  way  out  of  it." 

"  There  is  a  way  out  of  it,  Aunt  Dorothy.  I  have 
come  home  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  try  to  smooth 
things  at  Airlie.  I  would  have  been  here  long  ago,  had 
I  known  how  uncle  left  things.  I  want  you  to  let  me 
assume  uncle's  debts,  free  Airlie  of  all  incumbrance  and 
make  you  and  Robin  comfortable  for  the  rest  of  your 
lives." 

"  Richard,  thee  is  a  generous-hearted  man,  but  I  do 
not  see  how  we  could  let  thee  do  what  thee  proposes." 

"  Listen,  aunt ;  I  have  more  than  I  want  for  myself, 
as  you  know.  I  want  to  share  it  with  you  and  my 
cousin,  and  I  shall  be  most  miserable  if  you  deny  me 
what  is  my  pleasure  and  my  right."  Then  Dick  spoke 
earnestly  and  eloquently,  and  at  last  Dorothea  consented 
to  allow  him  to  do  as  he  wished,  provided  he  gained 
Robin's  consent. 

"  But,  aunt,  why  consult  Robin  ?  You  own  everything. 
I  could  take  up  these  debts  without  my  cousin's  consent." 

"  Not  exactly,  Richard  ;  Gilbert  left  no  will,  and  even 
if  he  had  left  one,  I  consider  that  Robin  is  more  entitled 
to  decide  matters  than  I ;  for  she  has  taken  the  whole 
burden  on  her  shoulders,  and  I  will  never  go  against  her 
judgment." 

"  Very  well,  I  will  find  Robin.  We  must  talk  it  out 
to-day." 


PRESSED   BEYOND   HER  FREEDOM.  255 

Away  he  strode  to  the  field  indicated.  As  he  neared 
the  spot  the  whirr  of  the  machine  fell  upon  his  ear,  and 
when  he  reached  the  gate,  which  stood  wide  open,  horses 
and  men,  with  Robin  on  the  machine,  came  to  view. 
The  girl's  figure  was  clearly  defined  against  the  blazing 
summer  sky.  Dick  stood  a  moment  unobserved,  taking 
in  the  scene.  Then  he  walked  quickly  over  the  stubble 
and  approached  them.  In  a  moment  they  observed  him 
and  came  to  a  standstill.  Robin  sprang  lightly  to  the 
ground,  not  without  a  quick  effort  being  made  by  her 
cousin  to  assist  her.  She  put  out  her  hand  to  him, 
while  a  glad  smile  of  welcome  lighted  up  her  face. 

"  I  am  sorry,  Dick,  I  am  so  busy  and  have  so  little 
time  to  see  thee  to-day  ;  thy  first  day  almost,  too,"  she  said. 

"  I  want  to  beg  a  few  moments  from  you,  Robin  ;  I 
have  something  to  lay  before  you,  and  Aunt  Dorothy 
will  not  decide  matters  without  your  consent.  Will  you 
come  to  the  house  a  moment  ? "  Dick  stood  with  his 
hat  in  his  hand,  gazing  earnestly  into  his  cousin's  face. 
Jared  heard  the  words  and  noticed  the  earnest  gaze. 
He  turned  abruptly  in  his  saddle.  The  horses,  thinking 
it  a  signal,  made  a  start ;  the  machine  passed  them  and 
went  on.  Robin  turned  to  one  of  the  men,  saying  : 

"  Bill,  tell  Kane  to  leave  his  work  and  take  my  place 
on  the  machine  ;  I  shall  be  back  presently." 

"Very  well,  Miss."  The  two  turned  towards  the 
house. 

"  What  is  it  thee  has  to  say,  Dick  ?  " 


256  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

"  I  have  something  which  I  have  come  all  the  way  from 
Germany  to  do,  and  I  want  your  help  and  consent." 

"  Certainly,  Dick,  thee  can  always  count  upon  me." 
And  she  glanced  up  at  him  confidently.  But  Dick 
looked  grave  and  preoccupied.  They  proceeded  almost 
in  silence  to  the  house.  Robin,  seeing  her  mother's 
eager  face,  when  they  entered  the  room,  said  : 

"  What  is  it,  mother  ?  Thee  and  Dick  are  very 
mysterious." 

"  Richard,  thee  must  explain  to  her  thyself." 

"  Robin,  ever  since  I  heard  in  April  of  the  changes  at 
Airlie  I  have  felt  aggrieved  that  I  was  not  confided  in. 
I  closed  up  my  work  and  came  immediately  home,  and 
as  the  nearest  relative  to  you,  and  I  think  I  may  say  the 
dearest,  it  is  my  right  to  assume  the  responsibility  of 
my  uncle's  debts.  I  proposed  to  Aunt  Dorothy  to  clear 
the  farm  of  mortgage,  pay  all  other  debts,  buy  back  the 
sold  land,  and  restore  the  place  ;  and  I  ask  your  consent. 
Your  mother  has  given  hers."  Dick's  announcement 
was  abrupt.  There  was  a  long  pause,  while  the  three 
looked  at  one  another. 

"  Does  thee  understand,  daughter  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  do,"  she  replied  slowly. 

"  And  you  join  in  consent  ? "  Dick  eagerly  asked. 
Robin  stood  erect.  She  had  taken  off  her  rough  straw 
hat  and  was  gazing  intently  at  her  mother. 

"  Thee  consents,  mother  ?  "  she  asked  in  a  clear,  cool 
voice. 


PRESSED   BEYOND    HER   FREEDOM.  257 

"Well,  Robin,  Richard  has  generously  insisted  upon 
it,  and  if  thee  will  give  thine  I  will  not  withhold 
mine." 

"  I  will  not  give  mine,"  she  said  simply. 

"  And  why,  may  I  ask  ? "  inquired  Dick. 

"  Because  we  cannot  accept  any  gift  or  loan  of  money ; 
mother  and  I  are  too  proud,  Dick." 

"  Proud  ?  and  towards  me,  your  nearest  relative  ? " 

"Yes,  prouder  for  that  fact,  Dick." 

From  the  expression  of  Dick's  face  it  was  evident  he 
was  ready  to  break  out  impatiently  and  indignantly  at 
his  cousin's  calm  rejection  of  help  ;  but  he  held  himself 
well  in  hand,  and  merely  said  : 

"  Will  you  kindly  let  me  know  to  what  amount  Airlie 
was  involved  when  you  took  the  farm,  Robin  ?  " 

"There  was  a  mortgage  of  twelve  thousand  dollars, 
and  there  were  fifteen  or  sixteen  hundred  dollars  of 
debts  besides." 

"  How  do  you  stand  at  present  ?  " 

Robin  looked  as  if  the  interrogation  were  not  to  her 
taste.  She  felt  she  was  perhaps  going  to  be  judged  for 
the  way  she  had  handled  affairs.  She  answered  proudly : 

"  I  sold  some  of  the  land,  and  was  thereby  able  to  pay 
off  eight  thousand  dollars.  There  remain  consequently 
four  thousand  of  the  mortgage.  I  have  had  the  farm 
only  a  little  over  a  year,  and  of  course  have  done 
nothing  further,  save  to  pay  the  interest  on  the  money. 

I  am  bending  my  energies  now  to  pay  something  on 
17 


258  *  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

the  other  debts,  for  they  were  money  my  father  had 
borrowed." 

As  she  spoke,  there  recurred  to  Dick's  mind  his  own 
statement  to  Standish  that  he  should  "  return  to  America 
and  take  the  helm."  And  here  before  him  stood  a  young 
woman  who  already  had  the  helm,  and  meant  to  keep  it. 
Then  he  thought  of  Standish's  enthusiastic  remark  that 
he  felt  like  taking  off  his  hat  every  time  he  thought  of 
Miss  Elgar.  Dick  felt,  surging  up  in  his  heart,  a  strong 
echo  of  Standish's  tribute.  He  gazed  at  his  cousin,  con- 
fronting him  so  proudly  as  she  put  before  him  a  state- 
ment of  her  affairs,  and  he  realized  what  heroic  work 
she  had  done.  He  said  to  himself :  "  My  little  cousin 
has  been  the  man  of  the  family,  verily,  during  all  the 
years  that  I  have  selfishly  followed  my  own  bent ;  and 
now  there  seems  nothing  left  for  me  but  to  do  her 
honor."  He  stepped  forward  to  his  cousin,  and,  taking 
both  her  hands,  said  : 

"  Robin,  it  seems  to  me,  as  I  look  at  you  and  hear 
you,  that  your  childish  wish  has  been  realized.  You  are 
a  far  bigger  man  than  I ;  but  will  you  not  let  Cousin 
Dick  share  with  you  and  Aunt  Dorothy  in  the  work 
of  restoring  the  old  farm  ?  I  have  had  it  in  my  heart 
ever  since  I  met  Standish  to  come  home  and  offer  you 
part  of  my  fortune.  If  you  will  not  take  it  as  a  gift, 
then  let  it  be  a  loan  Surely  you  will  take  it  from 
Cousin  Dick  ? "  And  he  bent  towards  her  entreatingly, 
still  holding  both  hands  fast. 


PRESSED   BEYOND   HER  FREEDOM.  259 

"  No,  Dick,  I  could  only  take  such  a  thing  from 
a  father  or  brother  ;  scarcely  then  even,  but  from  thee  I 
could  not." 

"  Am  I  less  your  cousin  than  I  was  years  ago,  when 
you  used  to  come  to  me  and  put  your  arms  about 
my  neck  and  tell  me  your  childish  woes  ?  You  loved 
me  then  next  to  your  father  and  mother  ;  am  I  less  near 
now  ? " 

"  Yes,  Dick  ;  thee  cannot  help  being  less  near.  Thee 
comes  back  after  years  of  absence.  As  I  look  at  thee  I 
have  to  try  hard  to  realize  that  thee  is  the  same  Dick  I 
loved,  and  love  still,"  she  said,  looking  him  full  in  the 
face.  "  I  shall  be  able  to  work  out  our  affairs  in  time, 
and  I  thank  thee  from  my  heart  for  thy  generous  offer, 
but  I  cannot  accept  it  ;  it  would  not  seem  right." 

Dick  dropped  her  hands,  and  stepped  back. 

"  I  think  you  do  not  yet  realize  how  in  earnest  I  am, 
Robin.  I  tell  you  I  cannot  and  will  not  give  up  my 
plan  of  assuming  the  Airlie  debts.  It  is  my  right,  and 
you  ought  to  see  it  in  that  way.  You  should  think 
of  your  invalid  mother,  to  whom  change  of  air  and 
scene  would  be  every  thing.  You  ought  to  think  of 
your  own  youth  and  health.  To  me  the  thought  of  you 
out  in  this  hot  sun,  doing  rough,  hard  work,  is  perfectly 
intolerable.  I  can  think  of  nothing  but  the  peasant 
-..-omen  of  Germany,  harnessed  to  carts  and  dragging 
heavy  loads.  I  tell  you,  cousin,  I  cannot  remain  in  this 
country  and  live  at  Ivanwold  knowing  that  a  young  and 


260  GILBERT    ELGAR  S    SOX. 

gently-nurtured  girl  is  working  day  and  night,  struggling 
under  a  load  of  debt,  while  I,  her  kinsman,  have  more 
than  1  can  use,  and  would  share  with  her  the  last  cent  I 
have.  For  God's  sake,  Robin,  let  me  do  this  thing." 

"  Dick,  I  cannot  ;  I  should  be  miserable.  I  shall  be 
glad  to  have  thee  do  any  thing  thee  can  to  make 
mother's  life  brighter,  but  my  father's  debts  I  alone 
must  wipe  out.  I  cannot  take  thy  money  ;  it  would  not 
seem  right." 

At  these  words  Dick's  face  flushed,  then  paled,  and  a 
resolute  look  swept  over  it  which  betokened  that  the 
combat  was  not  yet  over.  There  was  a  light  in  his  eyes 
that  had  not  gleamed  there  before  ;  the  scar  on  his 
cheek  stood  out  in  a  dull  red  line,  in  contrast  to  the 
pallor  of  his  face. 

"  If  you  will  not  take  my  money  at  Airlie,  will  you 
take  me  ?  Robin,  will  you  marry  me  ?" 

Dorothea  started  from  her  chair. 

"  Richard,  thee  goes  too  far  ;  thee  presses  Robin  be- 
yond her  freedom."  Then  she  sank  back,  and  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands. 

Robin  turned  upon  Dick.  Her  old  straw  hat  fell  to 
the  floor.  Through  the  tan  upon  her  face  glowed  the 
hot  color  ;  her  lips  were  parted,  her  eyes  blazed  with 
sudden  shame  and  amazement.  Dick  sustained  her 
gaze  in  a  grave,  composed  way  ;  determination  and 
something  besides  were  clearly  written  on  his  face  and 
in  his  eyes.  Robin  faced  him,  spellbound.  Utter  still- 
ness prevailed  for  a  moment.  At  last  Dorothea  said  : 


PRESSED   BEYOND   HER   FREEDOM.  261 

"  Thee  forgets,  Richard  ;  cousins  do  not  talk  of  mar- 
riage among  Friends." 

"  Cousin  Dorothea,  there  is  nothing  that  stands  be- 
tween us,  save  Robin's  distinct  refusal.  I  beg  of  her, 
and  of  you,  to  accept  me."  Then,  turning  to  his 
cousin,  he  bent  his  head  and  looked  into  her  eyes. 
"  Robin,  my  little  cousin,  will  you  marry  me  ? " 

"  No,  Dick,  I  will  not  marry  thee.  I  know  thy  offer 
springs  from  kindly  motives,  however  mistaken  they 
may  be.  I  cannot  accept  it."  She  turned  away  proud- 
ly. Just  then  the  door  opened,  and  Joppa,  putting  her 
head  in,  said  : 

"  Miss  Rob,  Miss  Harm'ny  and  Mr.  Watkins  is  on  the 
po'ch,"  and  the  door  was  shut  as  quickly  as  it  had  been 
opened. 

"  Mother,  I  cannot  see  them  now  ;  will  thee  do  it  for 
me  ? "  She  turned  to  make  her  escape  by  the  opposite 
door. 

"  Robin,  I  cannot  consider  your  refusal  of  to-day  as 
final.  I  have  been  precipitate.  Please  think  over  what 
I  have  said.  I  will  wait." 

"But,  Dick,  it  is  final."  And  she  shut  the  door 
behind  her. 

"  Richard,  what  possessed  thee  to  do  such  an  extra- 
ordinary thing  as  to  propose  to  marry  Robin,  whom 
thee  saw  only  yesterday  for  the  first  time  in  ten  years  ? 
Is  it  one  of  the  old,  mad  pranks  of  thy  boyhood  days  ?  " 

"  No,  aunt,  it  is  no  such  prank.  It  may  have  been 
mad,  I  am  inclined  to  think  it  was  ;  but  I  am  in  earnest, 


262  GILBERT    ELGAR*S   SON. 

and  I  am  prepared  to  stand  by  it.  Would  you  object  to 
me  as  a  son  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  ;  thee  seems  like  Robin's  brother." 

"  I  do  not  feel  in  the  least  like  her  brother,  but  I  do 
feel  very  much  like  your  son,"  he  said,  smiling. 

"  Well,  we  cannot  talk  of  it  any  longer,  for,  inoppor- 
tune as  it  is  to  see  visitors,  I  must  go  out  to  see  Harmony 
and  Thaddeus.  Give  me  thy  arm,  Richard." 

They  went  out  to  the  porch,  where  Dick  was  speedily 
presented  to  the  two  young  people.  He  seated  himself 
by  Harmony's  side,  and  proceeded  to  make  himself  de- 
lightfully companionable  ;  and  she  told  him  of  her 
father's  and  Thaddy's  visit  to  him  of  the  afternoon. 
They  soon  fell  to  recalling  places  and  people  they  had 
both  seen  in  Europe,  and  the  gay,  light  talk  lasted  till 
the  sun  went  down.  Harmony  at  last  asked  : 

"  Where  is  Robin  ?     I  want  to  see  her  before  I  go." 

"Thee  must  stay  to  tea,  Harmony,  and  thee,  too, 
Thaddeus.  Robin  will  not  be  in  for  some  little  time 
yet.  Richard,  thee  too  will  remain  ?  " 

"  No,  aunt,  I  think  not,"  he  said,  rising.  "  I  must 
take  myself  off  immediately  ;  but,  with  your  permission, 
I  shall  return  to-morrow  at  an  early  hour  ? "  And  he 
glanced  at  his  aunt  with  a  look  she  understood. 

"  I  shall  expect  thee  to-morrow,  and  every  other  day 
besides,  Richard,  as  long  as  thee  stays  among  us." 

"  Very  well,  aunt.  Miss  Esten,  I  shall  very  speedily 
return  your  father's  visit,  which  I  have  so  unfortunately 


PRESSED   BEYOND   HER   FREEDOM.  263 

missed  to-day  ;  and  yours  too,  Mr.  Watkins.  I  am  hop- 
ing to  make  Ivanwold  more  attractive  than  it  has  been 
for  the  past  few  years,  so  that  my  neighbors  will  seek  me 
often."  And  kissing  his  aunt's  hand,  after  the  foreign 
fashion,  he  bowed  to  Harmony  and  Thaddy  and  went 
out  to  where  his  horse  was  tied.  Thaddy  escorted  him 
across  the  lawn,  and  stood  talking  with  him,  as  he 
paused  to  adjust  his  stirrup  before  riding  away. 

"  What  a  handsome  man  your  nephew  is,  Mrs.  Elgar  ; 
I  have  n't  seen  such  a  looking  man  in  years." 

"  Yes,  Richard  is  a  handsome  man.  He  is  not  my 
nephew,  he  is  only  my  husband's  cousin  ;  but  he  has 
always  been  more  like  my  own  son." 

When  she  had  said  this,  a  pretty  faint  color  came  to 
her  faded,  worn  cheek.  It  recalled  the  scene  in  the 
sitting-room,  and  brought  back  the  words  that  had 
passed  between  Robin  and  Dick. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

DISQUIET. 

O  OBIN  did  not  go  back  to  the  wheat-field.  She  had 
a  fear  that  some  of  the  party  on  the  porch  would 
seek  her  there,  and  she  felt  she  could  not  endure  to  hear 
Thaddy's  high  voice  and  slipshod  sentences,  nor  even 
Harmony's  gentle  speech  ;  much  less  could  she  bear  en- 
countering Dick.  At  the  mere  thought  of  him,  she  shut 
her  hands  together  and  hot  waves  of  color  crept  up  over 
neck  and  brow  to  the  edge  of  her  hair.  She  hurried 
past  the  garden,  through  the  orchard,  to  the  shady  dell 
behind  it.  Adsum  had  followed  her,  and  when  she  sat 
down  on  a  flat  stone  half  covered  with  moss,  she  caught 
sight  of  the  old  dog,  and  said  almost  impatiently : 

"  Go  away,  Adsum  ;  does  n't  thee  see  I  want  to  be 
alone  ?  I  cannot  always  have  thee  following  me,  thee  's 
too  inquisitive  ;  go  away  at  once." 

Something  in  the  grave,  solemn  gaze  of  the  dog  dis- 
concerted her,  and  made  her  impatient  with  him  for  the 
first  time  in  her  life.  As  if  he  understood,  he  walked 
discreetly  away  with  ears  drooping,  and  lay  down  at  a 

264 


DISQUIET.  265 

distance,  his  head  stretched  out  on  his  extended  paws, 
and  his  eyes  fixed  watchfully  and  faithfully  upon  her. 
He  had  played  with  her  when  she  was  a  child,  he  had 
kept  the  secret  she  had  imparted  years  before,  he  had 
sympathized  with  her  in  her  father's  death  ;  he  knew 
that  some  other  crisis  was  at  hand,  and  that  it  was  his 
duty  to  be  on  guard. 

Soon  the  stillness  of  his  young  mistress  and  the  soft 
breeze  in  the  dell  lulled  him  to  forgetfulness.  But  they 
did  not  lull  Robin  in  like  manner.  Was  she  the  same 
girl,  she  asked  herself,  who  yesterday  morning,  while  cut- 
ting butter-cloths,  had  dreaded  an  encounter  with  Jared, 
and  who  in  the  short  twenty-four  hours  that  had  inter- 
vened, had  met  a  strange  cousin,  had  been  entreated  to 
accept  the  half  of  a  fortune,  and  had  had  an  offer  of  mar- 
riage ?  She  almost  laughed  aloud,  it  was  all  so  amazingly 
ridiculous.  Had  Dick  been  crazy  ?  she  asked  herself ; 
did  he  suppose  she  was  so  little  a  woman  that  she  would 
accept  a  man  whom  she  had  known  but  twenty-four 
hours  ?  Did  he  really  contemplate  marrying  her,  merely 
to  have  his  own  way  about  paying  their  debts  ?  She  re- 
called the  look  in  her  cousin's  eyes  as  he  bent  his  head 
to  look  into  hers,  and  again  the  color  mounted  to  her 
cheek.  She  thought  of  the  determined  look  about  his 
lips,  and  she  remembered  how,  after  he  had  spoken,  his 
face  had  paled,  bringing  out  in  startling  relief  the  long,  red 
scar  on  his  cheek.  What  had  he  meant  by  it  all  ?  If  he 
had  loved  her  she  could  have  understood  the  look  in  his 


266  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

eyes  and  his  persistence.  Did  he  think  she  had  so  little 
spirit  as  to  marry  a  man  in  order  that  Airlie  might  flour- 
ish once  more  ?  She  had  always  thought  of  Dick  as  a 
brother;  she  remembered  him  the  day  he  broke  Co- 
manche,  and  the  day  he  went  away  ;  was  it  possible  that 
this  man,  who  an  hour  before  had  asked  her  to  marry 
him,  was  the  same  she  had  so  often  thrown  her  arms 
about  and  lovingly  kissed  when  she  was  a  little  girl  ? 
She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  at  this  overwhelming 
recollection.  Dick  had  recalled  the  same  thing  that  after- 
noon ;  he  had  not  forgotten  it  either.  He  had  said  that 
he  could  not  stay  in  America  and  live  at  Ivanwold,  know- 
ing that  she  was  working  like  a  laborer,  while  he  had 
more  than  he  could  use.  She  knew  that  she  should  have 
felt  the  same  were  their  positions  reversed.  What  could 
she  do  to  wipe  out  the  memory  of  the  afternoon  ?  How 
could  she  meet  Dick  henceforth?  She  had  made  her 
rejection  positive  ;  surely  he  would  take  it  as  such,  in 
spite  of  what  he  said  when  she  left  the  room.  Then  her 
thoughts  came  back  again  to  the  starting-point,  and 
again  she  went  over  the  scene  and  the  same  disjointed 
reflections,  until  the  big  bell  clanged  out  on  the  evening 
air,  and  she  knew  that  it  was  the  call  to  come  in  from 
the  fields.  She  sprang  up  ;  Adsum  got  up,  stretched 
himself,  and  mutely  asked  if  he  might  walk  at  her  side  ; 
but  she  hurried  back  through  the  orchard  without  heed- 
ing him.  She  entered  the  house  from  the  back,  and 
seeking  Joppa,  she  inquired  : 


DISQUIET.  267 

"Has  any  one  remained  to  tea,  Joppa?" 

"Yes,  Miss  ;  Miss  Harm'ny  and  Mr.  Watkins  stayed, 

but  Mr.  Dick,  he  's  gone." 

"  Mr.  Jared  has  not  come  in  yet,  I  suppose  ?  " 
"  No,  Miss,  they  aint  come  in  from  the  field  yet." 
"  Do  not  announce  tea  till  I  am  down-stairs  again." 
In  a  few  moments  she  returned  in  a  fresh  summer 

gown,  with  no  traces  of  the  afternoon's  surprises  visible, 

and  joined  them  on  the  porch.     Dorothea  looked  at  her 

anxiously.     She  wondered  what  her  child  was  thinking. 
"Did  Jared  come  in  with  thee,  daughter?" 
"  No,  mother,  Jared  will  not  be  in  till  late.     I  came  in 

because  I  knew  Harmony  was  here  and  I  wanted  to  see 

her." 

She  could  not  betray  that  she  had  not  returned  to  the 

field  at  all  that  afternoon,  for  she  did  not  wish  her  mother 

to  know  how  profoundly  she  had  been  stirred  by  her 

cousin's  monstrous  offer. 

"  Robin,  I  met  your  cousin,  Mr.  Elgar,  this  afternoon. 

I  think  he  is  one  of  the  handsomest  and  most  distingut 

men  I  ever  saw.     His  manners  are  charming.     Do  you 

suppose  any  girl  in  this  country  has  half  a  chance?" 

Harmony  laughingly  inquired. 

"  I  think  it  likely  that  my  cousin  is  still  heart-whole. 

Shall  I  bespeak  you,  Harmony  ?  " 

"Aw,  come  now,  Miss  Rob,  don'  let  Miss  Harm'ny 

have    anybody    else.      I  've  got  all  I  can  stan'  to  be 

jealous  of  now,"  said  Thaddy,  plaintively. 


268  GILBERT  ELGAR's  SON. 

Just  then  the  announcement  of  tea  carried  them  into 
the  dining-room.  When  tea  was  over  Robin  said  : 

"  Harmony,  cannot  you  remain  at  Airlie  to-night  ? 
Mr.  Watkins  will  stop  at  The  Hatch  and  leave  word." 

"  Yes,  I  will  stay,  Robin,  if  a  message  can  be  sent  to 
father." 

So  it  was  arranged.  Robin  had  an  unaccountable  re- 
luctance to  being  left  to  her  own  thoughts,  or  to  being 
questioned  anxiously  by  her  mother.  She  wanted  to  put 
away  all  memory  of  the  afternoon,  and  she  felt  that  if 
she  kept  Harmony  it  would  prevent  her  mother  from 
talking  over  her  cousin's  strange  and  startling  proposi- 
tion. She  hailed  with  relief  the  deliverance  from  her 
own  disturbed  mind.  Thaddy  went  off  cheerfully  upon 
his  errand  to  Captain  Esten,  and  the  three  women  re- 
mained on  the  porch.  Jared  joined  them  for  a  few 
moments,  but  he  was  very  taciturn  and  soon  left  them  to 
themselves.  Finally  they  adjourned  to  the  house  for  the 
night. 

Scarcely  did  the  two  young  women  find  themselves 
in  the  shelter  of  Robin's  special  rooms  when  Harmony 
broke  out : 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Robin  ?  " 

"  Why  do  you  ask,  Harmony  ?  " 

"  There  is  a  nervousness  about  you  which  I  never  saw 
in  you  before  ;  I  noticed  it  as  soon  as  you  came  on  the 
porch  to-night." 

"  Well,  Harmony,  I  have  had  a  trying  day  ;  the  first 
day  of  wheat-cutting  is  the  worst  day  to  me  of  the  whole 


DISQUIET.  269 

year,  and  that  is  why  I  wanted  you  to  stay.  You  are 
so  bright  and  you  never  have  any  worries  or  money 
troubles." 

"  Have  you  any  new  worry  about  the  old  debts, 
Robin  ? " 

"  No,  not  exactly,  but  I  am  always  more  or  less  wor- 
ried ;  especially  as  I  never  know  how  my  crops  will  turn 
out." 

"  Robin,  that  is  not  truly  what  is  worrying  you.  It 
must  be  Jared." 

"  Well,  Jared  has  been,  as  you  know,  a  worry  to  me  all 
the  spring  ;  but  do  let  us  talk  of  something  else."  And 
Robin  threw  herself  on  an  old-fashioned  lounge  which 
was  pulled  up  near  the  open  windows,  while  Harmony 
proceeded  to  take  down  her  soft,  light  hair,  hunting, 
with  mirror  in  hand,  for  an  imaginary  gray  hair.  She 
said,  while  thus  occupied  : 

"  Do  tell  me  all  about  your  cousin.  What  do  you 
think  of  him  ?  Is  he  going  to  stay  here  ?  Will  he  keep 
open  house  at  Ivanwold  ?  I  suppose  you  know  Henry 
Standish  is  coming  down  soon  to  stay  with  him  ? " 

"  No,  I  did  not  know  it ;  who  told  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  Mr.  Standish  wrote  me,  and  he  told  me  of  his 
meeting  with  your  cousin  in  Germany.  But  I  suppose 
you  know  all  about  it  ?  " 

"  I  merely  know  that  they  met  ;  I  have  not  heard  any 
particulars,"  she  answered  indifferently. 

Thereupon  Harmony  began  to  relate  the  contents  of 
Standish's  letter,  with  a  running  fire  of  comment  ;  to 


270  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON, 

all  of  which  Robin  listened  in  silence.  At  last  she 
said  : 

"  Do  you  think  Mr.  Standish  meant  me  to  hear  all 
this  ?  would  he  like  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  said  I  might  read  the  letter  to  you.  He 
was  afraid  you  might  never  know  in  what  complete 
ignorance  Mr.  Elgar  was  cbncerning  the  complications 
here  at  Airlie.  He  felt  that  some  of  us,  conspicuously 
myself,  had  been  doing  your  cousin  injustice." 

"Well,  Harmony,  my  cousin  is  a  generous-hearted 
man.  Do  you  know  he  offered  us  to-day  the  half  of  his 
fortune  ?  He  wanted  to  take  the  Airlie  debts,  pay  them 
off  and  buy  back  the  land." 

Harmony  dropped  brush  and  glass  and  came  to  the 
sofa. 

"  Just  what  I  had  an  idea  he  would  do  as  soon  as  I 
had  read  Mr.  Standish's  letter.  And  yet  you  look  grave 
and  unhappy  to-night,  instead  of  radiant  at  such  generous 
good-luck." 

"  But,  Harmony,  we  would  not  let  Dick  do  it.  Mother 
and  I  refused  ;  we  were  too  proud  ;  but  I  have  been 
wondering  if  we  have  done  right,  for  mother's  sake. 
She  looks  frail  and  worn,  and  worries  secretly  about 
these  debts,  and  about  me.  What  would  you  have 
done  ? "  , 

"  Being  Harmony  Esten,  I  should  have  accepted  the 
offer  gratefully  and  said  '  Thank  you  '  ;  but  if  I  had  been 
Robin  Elgar,  with  her  high  notions  of  the  fitness  of 


DISQUIET.  2/1 

things  and  her  stern  Quaker  independence,  I  should 
have  snubbed  the  noble  cousin,  as  you  probably  did. 
And  yet,  come  to  think  of  it,  I  do  not  think  the  cousin 
looked  as  if  he  had  been  snubbed  ;  he  seemed  rather 
joyous  than  otherwise,  I  noticed  "  ;  and  Harmony  fixed 
a  keen  look  upon  her  companion's  face. 

But  Robin  did  not  observe  it.  She  was  troubled  and 
disturbed.  Dick's  words  kept  coming  back  again  and 
again  to  her  mind  :  "  You  have  no  right  to  refuse,  for 
your  mother's  sake ;  think  what  change  of  air  and 
scene  might  do  for  her."  This  he  had  said  before  he 
had  rushed  headlong  into  the  fantastic  offer  of  marriage, 
of  which  no  word  should  ever  escape  her  lips.  She  could 
speak  of  the  generous  offer  of  help  to  Harmony,  but  of 
the  other,  not  a  word.  She  sat  half  reclining  on  the 
lounge,  her  head  resting  upon  her  hand,  lost  in  deep 
thought,  until  a  soft,  uncertain,  groping  step  was  heard 
in  the  hall  outside.  Robin  sprang  quickly  and  opened 
the  door,  saying : 

"  It  is  mother." 

"  I  heard  your  voices,  girls,  and  I  came  to  hear  if  you 
were  saying  any  thing  interesting." 

"  We  were  talking  about  Dick,  mother." 

"About  Dick?"  she  asked,  with  a  quick  look  at  her 
daughter. 

"  I  have  been  telling  Robin,"  said  Harmony,  "  of  a 
letter  I  had  from  Henry  Standish,  and  of  his  meeting 
Mr.  Elgar  in  Germany."  Then  she  again  related  what 


2/2  GILBERT   ELGAR  S   SON. 

the  letter  contained,  after  which  she  led  the  conversa- 
tion with  tact  into  another  channel,  in  the  hope  of 
diverting  Robin's  mind.  At  last  Dorothea  rose  and 
said  : 

"  Come,  girls,  it  is  very  late,  and  it  is  time  to  go  to 
bed.  Robin,  thee  has  to  be  up  with  the  birds,  so  thee 
must  not  talk  any  more  to-night."  She  kissed  Harmony. 
Robin  went  with  her  to  her  own  room,  soon  returning ; 
and  the  short  summer  night  grew  to  be  an  early  summer 
morning. 

Meanwhile  Dick,  after  leaving  the  Airlie  gate  behind 
him,  had  turned  his  horse's  head  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion from  his  home.  Nothing  but  a  long,  hard  ride 
would  calm  the  tumult  he  was  in.  He  was  amazed  at 
himself.  He  had  been  six  days  in  America,  and  he  had 
made  an  offer  of  marriage  to  a  woman  he  had  seen  and 
known  only  twenty-four  hours.  What  a  madman,  what 
a  fool  he  had  been  !  Was  he  in  love  with  her,  or  was  it 
a  bit  of  chivalrous  feeling,  of  wishing  to  be  a  protection 
and  shield  to  these  lonely  women,  who  would  not 
accept  his  money  ?  What  ailed  him  that  he  should 
rush  headlong  into  an  offer  of  marriage  to  an  unknown 
cousin,  which  did  not  even  commend  itself  to  her  and 
had  only  roused  amazement  and  indignation  in  her  ?  he 
had  seen  it  in  her  face  when  she  had  turned  her  eyes 
upon  him,  and  again  when  she  had  declined  and  proudly 
left  the  room.  What  special  imp  had  had  possession 
of  him  to  make  him  play  the  idiot  so  conspicuously  ? 


DISQUIET.  273 

He  had  gained  nothing  except  to  deserve  being  thought 
a  hot-headed  fool.  He  had  come  to  America  to  help 
two  lonely  kinswomen,  and  within  twenty-four  hours  he 
had  managed  so  badly  that  his  help  had  been  rejected  ; 
and  he  must  then  offer  to  throw  himself  in  with  his 
money,  as  a  possible  inducement  to  his  cousin,  his  little 
Robin,  who  had  been  his  boyhood's  companion.  He 
remembered  the  day  he  had  parted  from  her  as  a  child  ; 
he  could  feel  the  little  arms  even  yet,  and  the  boyish 
lump  which  had  come  in  his  throat.  He  thought  of  her 
yesterday  as  she  stood  in  the  dairy  door,  and  again 
to-day  when  she  had  laid  before  him,  reluctantly,  the 
state  of  her  affairs  and  the  amount  of  her  debts,  which 
she  had  said  proudly  she  alone  could  wipe  out.  Then 
he  saw  her  again  on  the  reaping-machine,  with  Comly 
on  one  of  the  horses  as  companion,  and  he  smiled 
grimly  as  he  thought  that  perhaps  he  would  have  no 
power  to  alter  things.  He  remembered  how  com- 
placently he  had  planned  in  Germany  to  get  rid  of 
Comly  and  perhaps  take  Standish  into  consideration  as 
a  possible  lover,  when  Standish  had  not  even  raised  his 
eyes  to  her,  but  was  thinking  of  another.  And  Dick 
swore  at  himself  in  good,  strong  German  for  the  blun- 
ders he  had  made,  and,  for  aught  he  knew,  at  the 
blunders  he  should  probably  continue  to  make,  unless 
some  special  Providence  intervened. 

He  took  off  his  hat  in  the  soft  summer  night  and 

began  to  wonder  where  he  was.     The  moon  had  just 

18 


274  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

risen  and  was  beginning  to  cast  queer  shadows  across 
the  road.  He  went  on  for  another  half-mile,  until  he 
came  to  a  fork  in  the  road  ;  then  he  realized  that  he  was 
some  fifteen  miles  from  Ivanwold,  and  already  the  eve- 
ning was  half  spent.  But  it  made  little  difference  to 
him ;  he  had  the  whole  of  the  short  summer  night 
before  him,  and  his  own  disturbed,  disjointed  thoughts 
for  company. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

A    BOLD    RESOLVE, 
i 

"T^HE  short  hours  between  midnight,  which  saw  Dick 
dismount  wearily  at  Ivanwold,  and  the  early  dawn 
of  the  summer  morning  were  spent  by  him  in  carrying 
on  a  restless  warfare  with  himself,  and  in  trying  to 
see  his  way  out  of  the  position  his  absurd  conduct  had 
led  him  into.  Whichever  way  he  turned  he  saw  no 
excuse  for  his  rashness.  He  said  to  himself  that  while 
his  cousin  was  beautiful  and  winning  enough  to  tempt 
any  man  into  committing  a  folly,  still,  he  had  no  justifi- 
cation for  committing  that  folly  after  seeing  her  only 
twice  ;  it  was  unpardonable,  almost  brutal.  He  had 
startled  and  disgusted  her,  and  made  an  ass  of  himself  ; 
and  what  was  to  be  done  about  it  ?  He  sat  and  smoked 
at  the  open  windows  until  faint  streaks  of  dawn  appeared 
in  the  heavens.  His  thoughts  became  gradually  calmer 
and  clearer  with  the  brightening  sky.  He  made  up  his 
mind  that,  imprudent  and  rash  as  he  had  been,  he  had 
no  desire  to  accept  his  cousin's  rejection,  but  on  the 
contrary  he  was  distinctly  conscious  of  a  passionate 

275 


276  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

wish  to  win  her  ;  and  he  resolved  boldly  and  manfully 
to  try  to  carry  the  citadel.  It  would  have  to  be  stormed 
again  and  again,  perhaps,  but  he  was  not  the  man  to 
give  up  and  back  down  from  a  position,  though  it  had 
been  made  through  a  blunder.  The  next  morning  at 
breakfast  Deborah  said  : 

"  I  thought  I  smelled  smoke  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  Dick ;  did  thee  notice  it  ? " 

"  Yes,  Deborah,  I  noticed  it  very  decidedly ;  I  was 
smoking." 

"  Thee  was  smoking  in  the  middle  of  the  night  ? 
What  an  outlandish  heathen  thee  is  ;  thee  '11  be  burn- 
ing us  in  our  beds  next."  After  a  moment  she  added  : 

"  What  success  did  thee  have  in  thy  interview  at 
Airlie  yesterday  ? " 

"  None  ;  they  would  not  accept  a  loan  of  money,  nor 
help  of  any  kind  whatever." 

"  I  was  afraid  that  would  be  the  way  of  it  ;  but  does 
not  thee  think  they  may  be  induced  to  accept  in  time  ? " 
she  asked. 

"  I  will  never  offer  them  money  again,  Deborah." 
There  was  a  long  silence,  while  Deborah  seemed  to  be 
thinking  intently.  At  last  she  said  suddenly  : 

"  See  here,  Dick,  why  does  n't  thee  marry  Robin  ? " 

"  Because  she  will  have  none  of  me,"  he  quickly 
replied. 

"  But  thee  does  n't  know  whether  she  will  or  not,  till 
thee  's  been  here  long  enough  to  warrant  thee  in  asking 
her." 


A   BOLD   RESOLVE.  2/7 

"Ay,  there  's  the  rub." 

"  Rub  ?  what  rub  ?  what  does  thee  mean  ? " 

"Nothing.  By  the  way,  I  am  going  to  town  before 
Standish  comes  to  buy  some  horses  ;  there  is  n't  a  decent 
horse  on  the  place.  I  must  also  look  up  a  competent 
groom,  and  buy  a  trap  or  two.  Will  you  go  with  me, 
Deborah  ? " 

"  No,  Dick,  I  've  no  notion  of  broiling  in  town  at 
this  time  of  the  year.  If  thee  is  going  to  buy  horses, 
why  not  look  at  Robin's  four-year-old  ?  he  is  thorough- 
bred and  is  for  sale." 

"  Would  he  be  up  to  my  weight,  and  do  for  cross- 
country riding  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,  he  is  a  beauty,  and  Robin  broke  him 
herself." 

"  The  devil !  I  beg  your  pardon,  Deborah,  but  is 
there  any  thing  under  the  sun  out  of  a  woman's  way 
that  my  cousin  has  not  done  ? "  he  asked  impatiently. 

"  She  has  only  done  what  she  thought  was  within  the 
province  of  a  farmer,"  Deborah  replied  in  a  defensive 
tone. 

"  Well,  I  would  gladly  buy  the  horse  in  a  moment  if  I 
dared,  whether  it  was  fit  to  ride  or  not  ;  but  I  will  not 
risk  offering  to  buy  it.  I  risked  too  much  yesterday  to 
be  willing  to  put  myself  again  in  that  same  peril.  I  am 
going  to  Airlie  presently,  and  I  will  casually  mention 
that  I  think  of  buying  horses,  and  if  hers  is  offered  for 
sale  I  will  buy  it." 


2/8  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

"Going  to  Airlie  again  to-day?"  Deborah  ejaculated 
in  surprise.  Then  some  sudden  suggestion  coming  to 
her  mind,  she  quickly  held  her  peace  and  looked  at 
Dick  suspiciously.  He  smiled  back  at  her  composedly, 
as  he  read  the  thought  that  had  flashed  into  her  brain, 
as  clearly  as  if  she  had  given  expression  to  it.  Again 
he  set  out  for  Airlie.  There  was  perhaps  less  of  com- 
placency and  buoyancy  about  him  than  there  had  been 

the  day  before,  but  he  was  none  the  less  determined  to 

i 

have  his  own  way  in  the  end,  and  to  carry  out  every 
thing  which  had  been  refused  by  his  cousin.  He  felt 
that,  while  he  did  not  exactly  know  upon  what  ground 
he  stood  with  her,  he  was  better  equipped  to  face  the 
position,  whatever  it  was,  for  having  made  up  his  mind 
to  a  plan  of  action.  He  found  Dorothea  in  the  wide, 
cool  hall  which  extended  through  the  house.  Every  thing 
was  silent  about  the  place. 

"  Shall  we  be  undisturbed  here,  aunt  ? " 

"  Yes,  Richard,  no  one  is  about.  Robin  is  of  course 
out  in  the  harvest-field,  so  we  shall  be  perfectly  un- 
disturbed." And  she  waited  for  Dick  to  begin  the 
conversation. 

He  felt  for  a  moment  or  two  like  a  boy  who  was  about 
to  answer  for  some  misdemeanor.  He  fixed  his  eyes 
upon  his  aunt  with  a  half-defiant,  half-amused  look  in 
their  blue  depths,  which  to  Dorothea  was  a  well-remem- 
bered trick  of  Dick's. 

"Well,  Richard?" 


A    BOLD    RESOLVE.  2/9 

"  Well,  aunt  ? " 

He  paused,  then  plunged  into  the  subject  boldly  : 
"  The  only  explanation  I  have  to  offer  for  yesterday's 
extraordinary  denouement  is,  that  I  was  terribly  in  earnest, 
and  that  I  rushed  headlong  into  an  offer  to  my  cousin 
which  my  better  judgment  ought  to  have  told  me 
would  shock  and  perhaps  disgust  her.  I  dimly  felt  the 
first  day  I  saw  Robin,  that  it  would  be  only  a  question 
of  time  with  me.  I  realize  now  that  I  have  been  carry- 
ing the  memory  of  my  little  cousin  about  with  me  during 
all  the  years  I  have  been  away,  and  ever  since  the  April 
night  in  Germany  when  Standish  told  me  about  her,  her 
goodness,  her  beauty,  her  intellect,  her  bravery  in  coming 
to  the  front  to  do  battle  against  debt,  I  do  not  think  there 
has  been  a  waking  moment  that  she  has  been  absent 
from  my  mind.  I  did  not  realize  it  in  the  least  until 
yesterday,  when  she  so  proudly  refused  my  offer  to 
assume  her  debts.  Then  in  an  uncontrollable  moment 
I  offered,  what  I  knew  I  should  offer  sooner  or  later, 
myself." 

Dick  had  spoken  earnestly  and  with  conviction.  Doro- 
thea was  visibly  affected. 

"  Thee  means  me  to  understand,  Richard,  that  it  was 
not  merely  a  generous  wish  to  serve  us  that  hurried  thee 
into  thy  offer,  but  an  interest  in  Robin,  which  with  time 
might  grow  to  be  love  ? " 

"Interest  is  perhaps  not  just  the  word  I  should  use, 
aunt.  As  for  time,  if  twenty-four  hours  can  reduce  a 


28O  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

man  to  such  imbecility  as  I  showed  yesterday,  Heaven 
defend  him  from  any  extension  of  time." 

"It  was  most  extraordinary  and  incredible,  Richard." 
"  No,  it  was  not,  when  you  come  to  think  of  it,  Aunt 
Dorothy.  I  have  spent  the  years  since  I  left  America  in 
absorbing  work.  I  have  given  myself  up  to  study,  travel 
and  research,  with  little  time  for  the  things  that  most 
men  find  pleasure  in.  Of  course,  I  have  seen  consider- 
able of  German  society,  but  the  frauleins  were  never 
attractive  to  me.  I  saw  something  from  time  to  time  of 
English  society,  too,  but  it  is  a  curious  fact  that  Ameri- 
can men  rarely  wish  to  marry  women  of  other  countries 
than  their  own.  Then  I  met  Standish,  who  pictured  my 
cousin  in  terms  calculated  to  fire  the  imagination  of  any 
man,  and  it  is  evident  mine  was  a  responsive  one.  I 
thought  of  nothing  for  three  months  but  of  coming  home 
to  my  kinswomen,  of  taking  the  load  off  my  cousin's 
shoulders,  of  sharing  my  fortune  with  her  5  and  when  I 
saw  her,  fully  justifying  all  the  tributes  Standish  had 
paid  her,  it  was  but  a  short  step  from  offering  to  share  a 
fortune  to  offering  a  love  which  sprang  to  life,  Minerva- 
like,  upon  the  instant.  I  have  led  the  life  that  most  men 
lead,  selfish  and  perhaps  thoughtless.  I  am  not  very 
much  of  a  sinner,  nor  am  I  particularly  saintly,  but  my 
record  is  fairly  clean.  Aunt  Dorothy,  are  you  willing  I 
should  try  to  win  Robin  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Richard,  since  thee  has  told  me  thee  cares  for 
her."     Dorothea  smiled  faintly  as  she  recalled  the  con- 


A   BOLD    RESOLVE.  28 I 

versation  she  had  had  with  Robin,  only  two  days  before. 
Here  was  her  daughter's  ideal,  she  said  to  herself,  if  she 
would  only  recognize  it.  Then  she  remembered  Jared, 
and  felt  with  a  pang  that  it  was  no  happy  outlook  for 
him  to  have  so  formidable  a  rival  in  this  manly,  dis- 
tinguished cousin,  even  though  he  had  been  rejected  the 
day  before. 

"  Do  you  think  I  have  totally  ruined  my  chances  with 
my  cousin  ?  "  Dick  at  length  asked. 

"  I  cannot  possibly  tell,  Richard  ;  I  never  saw  Robin 
so  shaken,  so  unlike  herself,  as  she  has  been  ever  since 
yesterday.  I  learned  accidentally  that  she  did  not  go 
back  to  the  wheat-field  after  she  left  us  in  the  sitting- 
room.  I  have  no  means  of  knowing  where  she  went,  or 
what  she  was  thinking.  I  could  not,  of  course,  spy  upon 
her.  I  asked  her  this  morning  a  question  or  two,  but 
she  stopped  me  and  begged  me  to  leave  her  in  peace, 
and  above  all  not  to  talk  to  her  of  thee." 

"  Aunt  Dorothy,  I  have  no  idea  of  pressing  her  in  any 
way,  or  seeking  her  at  present ;  will  you  assure  her  of 
this  ?  Next  week  I  shall  be  in  town.  I  want  to  pur- 
chase some  horses,  find  a  groom,  and  renovate  Ivanwold 
to  some  extent.  Then  Standish  will  be  down  for  some 
time.  After  that  I  may  go  to  New  Haven  to  present 
some  letters  from  the  German  University,  which  will,  I 
think,  be  of  service  to  me  in  certain  of  my  plans.  I 
have  a  strong  desire  also  to  go  as  soon  as  possible  up 
among  the  Laurentide  Hills.  I  have  had  little  time  to 


282  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

study  those  famous  rocks.  There  is  a  vast  field  of  ex- 
ploration before  me  in  this  country,  and  I  have  years  of 
work  mapped  out.  But  I  did  not  mean  to  talk  of  my 
work  ;  may  I  ask  you  a  few  questions,  aunt  ? " 

"  As  many  as  thee  pleases,  Richard." 

"  I  did  not  get  a  clear  idea  yesterday  how  the  mort- 
gage is  placed  or  who  holds  it.  Do  not  think  me 
inquisitive." 

"  Surely,  Richard,  thee  is  fully  entitled  to  know  all 
about  it,  even  if  Robin  does  not  feel  that  we  can  accept 
thy  generous  help." 

After  a  few  skilfully- put  questions,  and  a  clear  and 
perfectly  unsuspecting  frankness  in  answering,  Dick  was 
soon  in  possession  of  what  he  wished  to  know  :  the 
names  of  the  persons  holding  the  mortgage,  and  the 
names  of  those  from  whom  Gilbert  had  borrowed  money, 
were  soon  stowed  away  in  his  memory  ;  after  which  he 
rose  to  go. 

"  Will  thee  not  stay  and  dine,  Richard  ?  " 

"  Not  to-day,  dear  aunt ;  I  shall  not  show  myself  for 
a  time,  in  the  hope  of  allaying  my  cousin's  fears  and 
assuaging  her  disgust.  I  am  too  deeply  in  earnest  to 
imperil  my  cause  by  any  rashness,  however  slight." 
And  Dick  took  his  leave. 

Once  outside  the  grounds  he  drew  out  a  note-book 
and  transferred  to  it  the  names  of  the  persons  who  held 
Airlie  in  their  grasp — all  of  them  within  a  radius  of 
twenty  miles — and  he  exultantly  felt  that  it  would  be  no 


A    BOLD    RESOLVE.  283 

fault  of  his  if  he  did  not  see  them,  to  a  man,  and  in  a 
few  days  have  in  his  own  hands  the  note  of  every  debt 
upon  the  old  farm.  Once  in  his  possession,  they  would 
never  see  the  light  of  day  again.  Meanwhile,  when 
they  were  safely  destroyed,  he  would  have  to  hold  him- 
self prepared  to  face  his  cousin  and  the  consequences  if 
she  should  find  out  that  he  had  taken  the  bit  in  his 
teeth.  He  argued  that  it  would  be  six  months  before 
she  would  be  called  upon  to  meet  the  interest  again,  and 
if  by  that  time  he  had  not  won  her,  it  would  be  all  over 
for  him  ;  a  little  added  scorn  and  indignation  from  her 
and  pain  to  himself  would  make  little  difference  in  the 
long  account  of  general  misery  which  in  that  event 
would  be  his  portion.  But  suddenly  the  other  side  of 
the  argument  presented  itself  in  such  an  overwhelming 
light  that  Dick  checked  his  horse  for  a  moment.  Had 
he  any  right  to  take  the  bit  in  his  teeth  in  this  arbitrary 
fashion  ?  he  asked  himself.  Had  he  any  right  to  do  by 
this  fearless  cousin  what  he  would  not  dare  to  do  if  she 
were  a  man  similarly  placed  ?  Was  he  not  bound  in  all 
honor  to  observe  her  rights  in  the  matter  ?  Had  she  not 
shown  the  same  scruples  about  her  father's  debts  that  a 
son  would  have  felt  ?  Was  he  to  disregard  them  be- 
cause she  was  a  woman  ?  Was  he  to  act  according  to 
the  standard  the  world  had  set  up  for  women,  rather 
than  by  the  strict  code  set  up  for  his  own  sex  ?  He  knew 
he  would  be  excused  in  the  eyes  of  men  for  taking 
matters  out  of  his  cousin's  hands  and  overriding  her 


284  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

conscientious  scruples,  for  it  was  popular  to  suppose 
that  women  always  forgave  such  masterful  interferences 
when  it  was  for  their  good.  Dick  saw  clearly  that  the 
old  time-worn  standard  would  not  do  when  it  came  to 
his  cousin.  He  began  to  suspect  that  it  would  not  do 
any  longer,  any  way.  It  was  not  for  him  to  hold  this 
woman's  pride  and  keen  sense  of  honor  less  than  his 
own.  Would  he  himself  ever  tolerate  any  one  who 
should  take  upon  himself  to  discharge  debts  of  his 
without  his  consent  ?  "  By  the  Lord,  no  !  "  he  em- 
phatically said  aloud.  He  started  his  horse  and  rode 
on.  He  thought  to  himself  bitterly  :  "  There  is  nothing 
I  can  do,  but  to  stand  by  with  what  control  I  can 
muster  ;  see  her  toil,  and  eat  my  heart  out  in  vain  long- 
ings to  share  with  her  what  she  refuses." 

Early  Monday  morning  Dick  went  to  town.  He  had 
an  interview  with  his  bankers,  and  a  long,  confidential 
talk  with  his  man  of  business,  before  whom  he  laid  the 
financial  affairs  of  his  relatives.  Dick  had  had  a  linger- 
ing hope  that  this  shrewd  man  might  find  a  way  of 
secret  help  without  himself  appearing  in  the  matter  at 
all.  He  knew  there  were  ways  of  negotiating  new  loans 
at  lower  rates  of  interest,  and  he  knew  that  notes  often 
changed  hands  without  the  principal  parties  interested 
knowing  of  it  for  some  time.  Keen  was  his  disappoint- 
ment therefore  when  he  was  told  that  the  only  thing  he 
could  do  would  be  to  buy  up  the  notes  on  Airlie  and 
hold  them  ;  that  no  lower  rates  of  interest  nor  new  loans 


A   BOLD   RESOLVE.  285 

could  be  managed  without  his  relatives  being  party  to  the 
transactions.  So  his  last  hope  was  gone  ;  he  was  tied 
hand  and  foot  ;  he  might  better  have  remained  in  Ger- 
many, certainly  it  would  have  been  better  for  his  peace 
of  mind.  If  he  had  not  rushed  headlong  into  an  offer 
of  marriage,  he  might  have  had  a  chance  perhaps  to  win 
his  cousin  to  accepting  substantial  cousinly  help,  but  now 
he  could  not  dare  even  to  speak  to  her  of  her  affairs, 
without  its  being  a  tocsin  of  alarm  to  her.  He  was  not 
only  in  the  exasperating  position  of  a  rejected  suitor,  but 
probably  of  a  rejected,  scorned  cousin  as  well.  And  it 
would  be  no  easy  task  to  win  her  back  to  any  thing  like 
confidence  in  him,  but  win  her  he  must,  he  would,  he 
told  himself. 

He  made  his  purchases,  and  before  leaving  town  went 
through  the  museum  and  offices  of  the  Geological  Survey. 
An  expedition  was  ready  to  start  out  under  the  govern- 
ment for  an  exploration  to  cover  several  months  ;  and  as 
Dick  noted  the  perfect  equipment  of  the  party  he  was 
sorely  tempted  to  cast  in  his  lot  with  them.  But  the 
memory  of  his  cousin  and  of  the  position  which  he  must 
face  soon  drove  the  temptation  from  his  mind,  and 
before  the  week  was  out  he  returned  to  the  country, 
where  he  was  speedily  followed  by  the  new  groom  in 
charge  of  several  fine  horses,  a  new  cart  and  a  closed 
carriage  ;  which  caused  Deborah  to  remark,  as  she  saw 
the  procession  file  past  the  house  on  the  way  to  the 
stables  ; 


286  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

"  Thee  must  be  intending  to  spend  all  thy  time  on  the 
turnpike,  Dick." 

"  I  am,  Deborah  ;  on  the  turnpike  between  Ivanwold 
and  Airlie." 

Meantime  Standish  was  detained  in  New  York,  and 
wrote  that  he  should  not  be  able  to  come  to  the  neigh- 
borhood before  the  first  of  August.  Deborah  was  glad 
of  this  respite,  and  was  secretly  hoping  that  something 
would  detain  him  permanently.  Dick,  too,  was  relieved 
that  he  would  not  put  in  an  appearance  immediately. 
He  wished  to  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing  his  cousin 
without  the  presence  of  strangers,  in  order  that  she 
might  realize  that  he  was  content  to  let  matters  rest  as 
they  were  for  the  present,  that  he  meant  to  be  only 
Cousin  Dick  to  her  ;  and  he  was  anxious  to  know  if  she 
would  accept  him  upon  this  footing.  He  was  over- 
whelmed with  impatience  to  go  to  Airlie.  He  felt  that 
he  did  not  recognize  himself  at  all  in  this  new  role,  and 
the  second  day  after  his  return  found  him,  just  before 
sundown,  drawing  on  his  gloves  ready  to  start.  The  new 
cart  was  at  the  door,  and  the  new  groom  in  plain,  dark 
livery  stood  at  the  horse's  head.  Deborah  said  : 

"  Thy  turnout  is  very  fine  for  these  parts,  Dick,  and 
thy  man  in  livery  will  make  the  good  folk  stare  as  thee 
drives  through  Fenny  Drayton.  What  they  will  think 
when  they  see  the  closed  carriage  thee  bought,  I  cannot 
fancy." 

"  They  no  doubt  will  be    grateful  to  me  for    giving 


A  BOLD   RESOLVE.  287 

them  something  to  talk  about.  As  for  the  brougham  I 
do  not  suppose  I  shall  ever  drive  in  it." 

"Who  then  will,  Dick?" 

"Well,  Deborah,  I  was  thinking  of  you  and  Aunt 
Dorothy,  who  is  unable  to  ride  about  in  the  rough,  open 
carts  and  rockaways  which  abound  in  the  neighborhood. 
I  am  hoping  she  will  use  it  mainly." 

"  Dick,  thee  's  a  good  fellow,  and  I  wish  thee  good 
luck  in  thy  wooing." 

"  Thanks." 

Dick  gathered  up  the  reins  and  drove  rapidly  away. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

A    COUSINLY    FOOTING. 

J\  A  EANTIME  the  day's  work  was  over  on  the  farm. 
The  horses  were  plodding  on  their  way  from  the 
harvest-field  to  the  stable,  followed  by  the  men.  Robin 
had  preceded  them  a  few  moments,  and  had  gone  to  the 
house,  jaded  and  tired  in  mind  and  body.  For  the  first 
time  in  all  her  healthful  young  life,  she  was  discontented 
and  discouraged.  Every  thing  seemed  to  press  upon  her, 
to  hem  her  in.  The  debts  and  the  heavy  mortgage  had 
weighed  upon  her  mind  and  heart  for  the  last  week,  an 
oppressive  burden.  Ever  since  the  conversation  in  the 
sitting-room  with  Dick,  her  financial  situation  had  never 
left  her  mind.  The  cheerful  courage  which  had  sus- 
tained her  ever  since  her  father's  death,  seemed  sud- 
denly to  leave  her.  She  reasoned  with  herself  that  the 
position  was  in  no  way  changed,  no  worse  than  it  had 
been  for  a  year ;  in  fact  it  was  a  trifle  better,  for  the 
farm  was  being  vigorously  worked,  and  she  hoped  at  the 
end  of  the  year  to  have  something  to  show  for  it.  She 
had  lain  awake  the  night  before  trying  to  compute  how 

288 


A   COUSINLY   FOOTING.  289 

long  it  would  be  before  she  should  be  free  from  debt,  but 
the  time  stretched  to  many  years,  and  years  of  incessant 
toil  ;  which  in  her  young  life  would  not  matter  much, 
but  her  mother's  life  would  perhaps  be  spent  before  any 
lightening  of  the  burden  would  come  to  them. 

And  Dick  had  said  that  her  mother  ought  to  have 
change  of  air  and  scene  ;  how  could  they  be  obtained  ? 
What  could  she  do  ?  She  tried  to  think  of  some  way  of 
making  a  payment  during  the  present  year  ;  the  only 
thing  she  could  do  would  be  to  try  to  make  a  new  loan 
at  a  lower  rate  of  interest,  but  that  would  be  only  a  drop 
from  the  bucket.  There  was  no  help  to  be  had  from  the 
farm  ;  it  was  doing  all  it  could  in  furnishing  their  living. 
What  little  ready  money  came  in  went  for  the  interest  on 
the  debts  and  for  fertilizers.  Wheat  had  sold  during  the 
winter  at  almost  the  lowest  rate  it  had  touched  in  years. 
Where  did  the  benefit  come  in  ?  she  wondered  ;  who 
made  the  profits  ?  She  toiled  day  and  night,  and  what 
had  she  to  show  for  it  ?  She  sent  her  produce  to  the 
town  markets  ;  she  received  the  lowest  possible  prices. 
The  middlemen,  the  grocer,  huckster  or  grain  merchant, 
sold  at  an  advance  and  made  the  profit.  Why  was  it  ? 
Then  she  remembered  that  it  was  nearly  time  for  the  tax- 
collector  to  appear  ;  she  should  have  to  meet  her  taxes, 
but  how  ?  Why  should  she  pay  taxes  at  all  ?  True,  she 
owned  the  farm,  but  she  was  a  woman  ;  she  had  no  voice 
in  the  laws  which  controlled  and  governed  her  property. 

The  constitution  and  laws  of  the  country  did  not  recog- 
19 


290  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

nize  her  as  a  person,  a  citizen,  or  a  responsible  being  in 
any  way  ;  therefore,  why  should  she  be  legally  held  for 
taxes  ?  What  man  would  allow  himself  to  be  taxed  un- 
less he  had  a  voice  affecting  those  taxes  ?  Where  was  the 
justice  of  it  ?  She  might  do  as  the  two  Connecticut 
women  had  done,  who  refused  to  pay  taxes  on  that  same 
ground  and  finally  disposed  of  their  property  in  order  to 
evade  cpmpulsory  payment.  It  was  just  as  much  a  cause 
for  insurrection  among  women  as  the  causes  which  led 
to  the  War  of  Independence  had  been.  It  was  just  as 
clearly  "  taxation  without  representation  "  as  it  had  been 
in  the  days  of  the  Stamp  Act. 

She  smiled  to  herself  faintly  as  she  pictured  her 
mother's  horror  could  she  know  the  full  extent  of  her 
daughter's  heretical  opinions.  But  Robin  knew  they 
were  not  heretical  ;  they  were  the  opinions  that  forced 
themselves  into  a  woman's  heart  and  mind  when  she 
came  to  stand  side  by  side  in  equal  contest  with  men  ; 
when  she  like  them  was  either  a  property-holder,  taxed 
directly,  or  a  consumer  of  food  and  stuffs,  taxed  indi- 
rectly. Whichever  way  her  weary  mind  turned  it  found 
no  recognition,  only  injustice  and  one-sidedness.  She 
wondered  how  long  it  would  be  before  the  world  was 
righted.  Then  her  thoughts  came  back  to  the  immedi- 
ate situation. 

She  would  have  to  satisfy  the  tax-collector  when  he 
came,  however  much  she  might  rebel.  She  would  have  to 
go  on  toiling,  earning  bit  by  bit,  and  there  would  never 


A    COUSINLY    FOOTING.  29! 

be  any  thing  for  change  of  air  and  scene  for  her  weary, 
frail  mother.  She  thought  of  Dick,  whom  she  had  not 
seen  since  the  memorable  day  in  the  sitting-room  ;  good, 
generous  Dick,  who  wanted  to  share  with  them  every 
cent  he  had  ;  who,  in  order  to  do  it,  had  offered  himself 
in  chivalric  feeling,  because  she  had  said  she  could  only 
accept  from  a  father  or  brother,  and  knowing  he  could 
be  neither,  he  had  offered  a  closer  tie,  in  order  to  care  for 
her  mother  and  herself.  It  had  been  a  wild  and  foolish 
thing  for  him  to  do,  upon  the  spur  of  the  moment,  but  it 
had  been  doubly  foolish  of  her  to  be  so  indignant  and 
upset  by  it,  and  not  to  see  at  once  that  it,  was  a  bit  of 
mistaken  chivalry.  Had  he  not  distinctly  turned  to  her 
mother  as  well  as  to  her  when  he  said  :  "  I  beg  of  her  and 
of  you  to  accept  me  ? " 

"  Had  the  look  in  the  eyes  been  meant  for  both  too  ?" 
some  sly,  inner  voice  asked  her  ;  but  Robin  sternly  took 
no  notice  of  the  wee,  small  voice,  which  had  been  plying 
and  confusing  her  with  questions  for  the  past  ten  days. 
After  the  first  few  hours  of  shock  had  passed  which  suc- 
ceeded the  conversation  in  the  sitting-room,  she  had  been 
able  to  shake  off  the  fright  and  bewilderment  ;  she  was 
able  at  last  to  see  Dick's  offer  in  the  way  it  had  been 
meant,  and  she  felt  at  peace.  She  was  now  prepared  to 
meet  him  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  She  was  able  to 
think  of  him  as  a  generous,  chivalrous  man,  not  perhaps 
just  the  same  Dick  she  had  been  so  eager  to  resemble,  but 
her  kinsman,  her  friend.  She  felt  that  Dick  had  gone  to 


292  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

town  only  to  take  himself  out  of  the  way.     He  was,  no 
doubt,  as  uncomfortable  over  the  situation  as  she  had 
been,  and  he  would  feel  relieved  to  know  that  she  had  dis 
missed  the  whole  occurrence  from  her  mind  and  would 
meet  him  on  the  old  cousinly  footing. 

Thinking  thus  she  descended  to  the  tea-table,  from 
which  in  a  short  time  she  went  with  her  mother  to  the 
cool  porch,  where  the  twilight  hour  was  usually  spent. 
Robin  leaned  in  her  favorite  way  upon  the  railing.  She' 
was  trying  to  put  out  of  her  mind  the  debts  on  the  farm, 
the  inequality  of  the  laws  towards  women,  and,  lastly,  the 
worry  about  Jared,  his  love  and  his  tempers.  He  had 
been  very  taciturn  all  during  harvest,  and  his  stern  face 
had  been  a  constant  reminder  to  the  girl  of  his  unde- 
clared love.  She  wished  with  all  her  heart,  as  he  alone 
could  speak  and  end  the  discomfort  of  both,  that  he  would 
elect  to  do  so.  The  sound  of  wheels  made  Robin  start 
from  her  reverie.  She  saw  a  light  cart  come  swiftly  up 
the  lane,  which  she  did  not  recognize.  It  was  not 
yet  dark,  and  as  a  man  jumped  down  and  handed  the 
reins  to  a  liveried  servant,  she  knew  it  must  be  Dick  ; 
Cousin  Dick,  whom  she  had  resolved  to  meet  as  if  noth- 
ing had  happened.  A  wild  impulse  seized  her  ;  she 
could  not  face  him  ;  every  drop  of  blood  receded  from 
her  face,  leaving  her  as  white  as  the  gown  she  wore. 
She  turned  suddenly,  as  if  to  make  her  escape  through 
the  house,  but  she  was  arrested  by  her  mother's  quiet 
tone  of  surprise  :  "  Thee  's  not  going,  Robin  ?  it  is  only 
Dick," 


A   COUSINLY   FOOTING.  293 

There  was  a  moment  of  inward  struggle  ;  then  she 
turned  back  to  the  railing  composedly. 

"  No,  mother,  I  am  not  going  ;  why  should  I  ?  As  thee 
says,  it  is  only  Dick,  Cousin  Dick." 

She  said  the  last  words  in  a  lingering  tone,  as  if  to 
reassure  herself,  then  quietly  awaited  his  approach. 
By  the  time  her  cousin  reached  her,  she  put  out  her 
hand  in  a  cheerful  and  perfectly  unembarrassed  way, 
saying  cordially  : 

"We  are  very  glad  to  see  thee  back,  Dick." 

*'  Ah  I  Richard,  I  have  missed  thee  sorely,"  said 
Dorothea.  Then  Robin  continued  : 

"  Yes,  Dick,  we  have  missed  thee.  I  sincerely  hope 
we  are  now  going  to  have  a  chance  of  knowing  our 
cousin  once  again." 

Something  in  the  tone  or  the  words  made  Dick's  heart 
sink.  It  was  certainly  cordial,  very  cousinly,  and  very 
ignoring  of  the  past ;  just  the  tone  and  manner  he  had 
been  telling  himself  he  hoped  for.  But  the  eagerness 
died  out  of  his  face  and  the  thrill  from  his  heart. 

"  It  is  delightful  to  be  missed,  but  more  delightful  to 
be  told  of  it  in  such  sweet,  cousinly  fashion,"  he  said 
lightly  and  gayly.  There  was  just  the  faintest  emphasis 
upon  "  cousinly  "  ;  and  for  a  brief  instant,  in  the  fast- 
gathering  gloom  of  the  porch,  Dick's  eyes  encountered 
Robin's,  and  the  footing  upon  which  they  should  hence- 
forth meet  was  distinctly  understood  and  accepted  by 
both. 

Dorothea,   too,  comprehended  the   words  and  tone, 


294  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

though  she  had  not  seen  the  quick  flash  of  understanding 
which  the  last  lingering  rays  of  daylight  had  transmitted. 
Dick  then  proceeded  to  give  a  slight  account  of  his 
doings  in  town.  In  a  few  moments  a  chance  question 
led  him  to  talk  of  Germany,  and  in  turn  of  his  travels. 
He  finally  said  : 

"  Aunt  Dorothy,  I  brought  up  with  me  to-night  a  col- 
lection of  foreign  photographs,  which  I  wish  you  and 
my  cousin  to  have  ;  they  may  perhaps  interest  you." 

He  called  to  his  man  to  bring  them  from  the  cart.  A 
large  portfolio  was  soon  upon  the  table  in  the  sitting- 
room.  Dorothea  and  Robin  bent  over  them  with 
absorbing  interest,  while  Dick  explained  them.  .There 
were  photographs  of  every  country  from  Norway  to  the 
Nile  ;  and  as  Robin  gazed  at  the  pictures  and  listened 
to  the  description  of  the  places  she  had  read  of  and 
dreamed  of  all  her  life,  it  was  almost  as  if  she  had  seen 
them  in  person,  so  eagerly  did  she  drink  in  her  cousin's 
words,  so  quickly  did  she  see  with  his  eyes.  It  was  when 
their  heads  were  bent  together  under  the  soft  lamp- 
light, that  Jared  came  to  the  door  and  took  in  the 
group  for  a  moment  unobserved.  His  face  grew  stern, 
and  with  a  quick  movement  he  turned  away,  but  not 
without  attracting  the  attention  of  those  within  the 
room. 

"  Come  in,  Jared,  will  thee  not,  and  enjoy  these 
photographs  with  us  ?  "  Robin  said  promptly  and  cor- 
dially, hoping  that  Jared  would  meet  her  cousin  for  a 
few  moments  pleasantly,  and  thereby  wipe  out  the  mem- 


A   COUSINLY   FOOTING.  295 

ory  of  his  rude  manner  upon  their  first  meeting.  But 
Jared  was  in  no  humor  to  be  pleasant,  and  in  no  mood 
to  endure  the  sight  of  the  cousins  together.  He  said 
abruptly  : 

"  Thanks,  I  have  something  else  to  do."  He  turned 
on  his  heel  and  disappeared.  He  rushed  out  into  the 
night,  down  the  lane,  and  out  the  gate,  caring  little  where 
he  went,  taking  little  heed  of  time.  He  muttered  to 
himself  as  he  went  along,  kicking  at  the  stones  in  his 
path.  No  one  of  all  the  household,  save  Robin,  knew 
that  he  did  not  enter  the  house  again  all  through  the 
short  night  ;  and  as  she  sat  at  her  window  and  pondered 
over  him,  she  felt  a  tender,  sorrowing  pity  for  the  man 
who  was  so  ungoverned  and  fierce.  She  felt  instinctively 
that  Jared  was  showing  out  his  true  self  ;  that  while  he 
had  many  generous,  noble  traits,  they  were  more  than 
counterbalanced  by  his  moody,  savage  tempers.  He  was 
a  man  who,  though  he  should  attain  his  heart's  desire, 
would  ever  be  at  times  a  prey  to  his  own  undisciplined 
nature  ;  and  she  wondered  how  it  was  all  to  end. 

During  the  days  which  followed,  Dick  came  daily  to 
Airlie.  Sometimes  he  saw  his  cousin  ;  oftener  he  did 
not.  She  was  almost  always  out  on  the  farm,  where  he 
would  not  seek  her,  for  he  could  not  bear  the  sight  of 
her  toiling  through  harvest.  Many  a  day  he  would  fain 
have  thrown  off  his  coat  and  have  plunged  into  the  work 
by  her  side.  When  at  last  July  came  to  an  end,  and 
harvest  and  threshing  were  finally  over,  there  went  from 
his  heart  a  fervent  "  thank  God  !  " 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE    FOX    HUNT. 

POURING  August  Standish  arrived  at  I  van  wold,  and  the 
neighborhood  awakened  to  life.  The  heaviest  work 
of  the  year  being  over,  the  time  for  recreation  and  leisure 
was  at  hand.  The  coming  home  of  Dick  Elgar  after 
years  of  absence  was  a  spur  to  every  one,  and  not  a 
place  in  all  Fenny  Drayton  but  opened  its  doors  during 
this  leisure  month  in  some  hospitality.  During  the  early 
days  of  September  Captain  Esten  proposed  to  get  up  a 
hunt.  He  told  marvellous  tales  of  having  sighted  a  fox 
several  times  down  on  the  Manor,  not  far  from  Ivan- 
wold.  Dick  therefore  promptly  invited  all  the  young 
people  of  the  neighborhood  to  a  meet  at  Ivanwold, 
where  breakfast  would  be  served  between  eight  and 
nine  in  the  morning,  and  as  the  weather  had  been  cool 
and  damp  a  large  turnout  would  be  expected.  Captain 
Esten  was  to  be,  of  course,  master  of  the  hounds. 
After  full  arrangements  had  been  made,  Dick  went  to 
Airlie  to  see  what  horses  his  cousin  had  that  were 
available.  He  told  her  of  the  arrangements  and  the 
hunt  breakfast,  then  he  asked  : 

296 


THE   FOX   HUNT.  2Q/ 

"  What  horse  will  you  ride,  Robin  ?" 

"  Dick,  I  have  never  hunted  since  father's  death,  and 
I  feel  as  if  I  never  cared  to  again." 

"  Robin,  my  little  cousin,"  Dick  said  gently,  "  you 
must  go  to  this  hunt  ;  you  must  not  give  up  to  any 
morbid  feeling.  There  is  no  one  who  would  be  as 
grieved  over  your  abandonment  of  hunting  as  Uncle 
Gilbert  himself.  And,  further,  you  will  not  utterly  slight 
the  first  gathering  of  my  home-coming,  will  you  ?  "  It 
was  only  by  a  supreme  effort  that  he  could  keep  within 
the  bounds  of  prudence  ;  the  cousinly  footing  was  very 
slippery  ground  to  Dick.  But  Robin,  not  entirely  una- 
ware of  an  undercurrent  of  feeling  in  her  cousin's  words, 
replied  gravely,  after  a  moment  of  consideration  : 

"  No,  Dick,  I  will  not  slight  thy  home-coming.  As 
thee  says,  father  would  be  the  first  to  bid  me  go." 

"  And,  Robin,  of  course  I  expect  Comly  to  come  too  ; 
will  you  have  mounts  enough  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  Jared  has  his  own  horse,  and  I  shall  ride  the 
young  bay." 

"  Will  it  be  well  to  ride  a  young  horse  untried  in 
hunting  ? " 

"  It  will  be  perfectly  safe  ;  he  may  get  a  bit  excited 
among  so  many  horses,  and  he  has  never  done  much 
jumping,  but  I  wish  to  sell  him.  This  will  be  an  oppor- 
tunity to  see  what  there  is  in  him." 

"  Why  not  ride  Comanche  ?  "  Dick  persisted. 

Robin  understood  that  her  cousin  was  uneasy  for  her 
safety. 


298  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

"  Comanche  is  a  little  lame,  and  I  would  not  take  him 
out  on  such  a  jaunt.  Thee  need  not  fear  the  bay  ;  I  am 
not  inexperienced,  and  though  he  has  never  been  tried 
on  such  an  occasion,  he  readily  obeys  my  lightest  wish. 
I  broke  him  myself  ;  and  besides,  Dick,  thee  must  not 
forget  our  fox-hunting  here  in  Maryland  is  not  like  fox- 
hunting in  England.  There  they  largely  hunt  bagged 
foxes,  which  rarely  escape  ;  they  make  a  dash  of  several 
miles  over  fences,  stone-walls  and  streams,  and  there  are 
usually  a  brush  and  pads  to  be  had  for  the  few  in  at  the 
death.  We,  on  the  contrary,  often  ride  a  whole  after- 
noon, or  half  a  night,  without  unearthing  a  fox.  We 
have  more  long,  hard  riding  to  do  than  high  or  danger- 
ous jumping,  and  many  do  not  follow  the  hounds  at  all, 
save  where  they  lead  through  fields  and  gates.  Some  of 
the  more  adventurous  among  us  take  the  fences  and 
ditches  as  they  come,  but  nothing  is  thought  if,  instead 
of  jumping,  the  top  rails  are  thrown  off  or  a  circuit 
made.  Nowadays  the  foxes  are  so  scarce  that  I  fancy 
the  hunt  will  be  very  tame." 

The  morning  of  the  hunt  came,  and  with  it  the  tradi- 
tional hunting  weather :  a  southerly  wind  and  a  cloudy 
sky.  Ivanwold  was  soon  alive  with  carriages  and  riders. 
Dick  was  impatiently  awaiting  his  cousin's  arrival. 
Breakfast  was  nearly  over  before  she  appeared.  She 
came  trotting  up  on  the  young  horse  and  Dick  thought 
he  had  never  seen  so  lovely  a  woman.  He  noted  with 
quick,  fastidious  eyes  the  firm  seat,  the  light  hand,  and 


THE   FOX   HUNT.  299 

her  grace  and  ease  in  the  saddle.  He  hastened  towards 
her  to  help  her  dismount,  but  she  shook  her  head  in 
token  that  she  would  not  get  down. 

"  But,  Robin,  you  have  had  no  breakfast." 
"  Oh  !  I  breakfasted  long  ago,  at  sunrise  ;  but  if  thee 
chooses,  I  will  take  some  coffee." 

Dick  brought  a  cup  with  his  own  hands  and  stood 
beside  her,  while  she,  with  the  bridle  over  her  arm, 
drank  it.  Then  came  the  call  to  mount.  It  was  found 
that  only  about  twenty-four  would  really  follow  the 
hounds,  with  but  a  light  sprinkling  of  the  young  women 
of  the  neighborhood.  Harmony  was  among  them,  with 
both  Standish  and  Thaddy  very  attentive  in  the  matter 
of  tightening  saddle-girths.  Dick,  as  host,  had  to  be 
everywhere  at  once,  helping  to  mount  the  ladies  of  the 
party.  Jared  held  himself  aloof,  with  his  eyes  bent 
upon  the  rider  of  the  bay  horse.  Robin  kept  back  out 
of  the  crowd  of  horses  ;  the  colt  showed  unmistakable 
signs  of  excitement,  and  as  each  of  the  party  crossed  the 
lawn  and  swept  by  him,  he  began  to  back  and  whirl 
about  in  the  middle  of  the  drive-way,  making  the  gravel 
fly  in  all  directions.  He  refused  to  follow  the  others. 
Robin  was  bending  forward,  trying  to  quiet  him  with 
hand  and  voice,  but  he  laid  his  ears  back  and  was  deaf 
to  her  tones.  She  spoke  to  him  commandingly,  and  it 
was  evident  that  the  temper  of  both  horse  and  rider  was 
up.  Jared  came  forward  and  begged  her  to  dismount, 
but  this  she  refused.  Then  he  said  : 


300  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

"  Let  me  take  him  by  the  bridle  and  lead  him  ?  " 

"  Stand  off,  Jared,  I  shall  give  him  the  whip  in  a 
moment." 

True  to  her  words,  she  struck  him  sharply  over  the 
neck  with  her  crop.  He  reared  for  an  instant,  then  with 
a  bound  was  off  like  a  shot,  in  among  the  riders  who 
scattered  to  right  and  left  before  him.  Then,  with  ears 
laid  back  and  body  stretched  to  full  length,  he  was  out 
of  the  gate  and  out  of  sight,  with  Dick,  Jared  and  several 
others  in  terrified  pursuit. 

Robin  knew  that  the  horse  had  bolted  ;  that  she  was 
in  for  a  dangerous  ride,  perhaps  a  ride  for  her  life. 
After  the  first  shock  of  excitement  and  fright  swept  over 
her,  she  said  to  herself  that  she  must  keep  cool,  she  must 
not  lose  her  head,  she  must  keep  a  firm,  steady  rein.  As 
they  bounded  along,  with  trees  and  fences  scarcely  dis- 
tinguishable, she  began  to  feel  an  unaccountable  ex- 
hilaration and  exultation  in  the  motion  of  the  running 
horse.  She  felt  that,  unless  they  encountered  something 
in  the  road,  her  chances  might  be  good  for  a  safe  ending 
to  the  mad  ride.  The  thought  flashed  through  her  mind 
that  she  had  boasted  to  Dick  that  the  horse  obeyed  her 
lightest  wish  ;  she  felt  that  he  would  have  little  opinion 
of  her  skill  in  breaking  a  horse  or  her  judgment  in  rous- 
ing his  temper  at  a  critical  moment  ;  but  she  knew  that 
this  same  thing  might  have  happened  to  any  one,  no 
matter  how  skilled  in  horsemanship.  It  would  probably 
cost  her  the  sale  of  the  animal.  Then  there  rushed 


THE   FOX    HUNT.  3OI 

through  her  mind  queer  recollections  of  past  things, 
trivial  doings  and  sayings  of  years  ago.  She  felt  that 
she  had  been  riding  for  hours,  and  she  wondered  if  the 
hunters  had  gone  on  ;  she  hoped  so.  She  knew  that  she 
was  close  upon  a  fork  in  the  road  ;  she  hoped  the  horse 
would  take  the  broader,  safer  way.  She  made  a  steady, 
strong  pull  upon  the  rein.  To  her  surprise,  he  turned 
into  the  smooth,  open  road,  but  kept  on  in  his  wild  rush.* 
Not  a  wagon  nor  a  person  was  to  be  seen  as  far  as  eye 
could  reach,  and  she  wondered  what  the  end  would  be. 
Another  mile  flew  by,  and  she  thought  she  noticed  a 
faint  slackening  of  the  pace. 

Then  for  the  first  time  Robin  felt  she  might  perhaps 
gain  his  attention.  She  spoke  to  him  ;  she  called  him 
by  name  ;  she  coaxed  him  in  the  old,  tender  way  he 
knew  so  well.  For  a  few  moments  he  seemed  not  to 
hear,  but  gradually  his  ears,  which  had  lain  so  close  to 
his  head,  pricked  up  and  straightened  themselves,  and 
Robin  knew  that  he  heard  and  recognized  her  voice  at 
last  ;  that  the  time  was  not  far  off  when  she  should  have 
full  control.  He  gradually  came  down  from  the  mad- 
dened run  to  a  more  moderate  gait,  and  when  he  finally 
felt  the  touch  of  her  hand  upon  his  neck  the  fright  and 
temper  left  him,  and  the  danger  was  over. 

Robin  saw  that  she  was  several  miles  from  Ivanwold  ; 
that  she  had  lost  the  hunt  altogether,  and  that  she  must 
retrace  her  steps.  The  panting  horse  was  submissive 
enough  now.  He  turned  readily  back  upon  the  road 


302  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

which  he  had  just  been  rushing  over  a  moment  before, 
and  after  they  had  slowly  retraced  nearly  a  mile  of  the 
way,  Robin  heard  the  regular  pounding  of  horses'  hoofs 
approaching.  She  knew  that  it  was  some  one  in  pursuit. 
She  halted  at  one  side  of  the  road  and  waited  the  coming 
of  the  rider  who  was  thundering  over  the  pike  in  as 
headlong  a  fashion  as  she  had  done  a  moment  ago. 
'  It  was  Dick,  his  horse  in  a  foam,  his  face  set  and  pale. 
He  threw  himself  out  of  the  saddle,  and  as  his  eyes  took 
in  the  fact  that  she  was  safe  and  unhurt  he  said, 
fervently  : 

"  Thank  God  !  you  are  safe.  Oh  !  my  little  cousin, 
how  you  must  have  suffered  during  that  headlong  ride. 
At  every  step  of  the  way  I  feared  to  see  you  lying  by  the 
roadside."  And  he  put  up  his  hand  to  shut  out  the 
imaginary  picture. 

"  I  was  not  so  very  much  frightened,  Dick,  but  I 
thought  of  every  thing  under  the  sun  that  I  have  ever 
said  or  done  for  years  ;  and  I  confess  that  both  the  horse 
and  I  are  a  trifle  spent." 

"  Let  me  put  you  on  your  feet  for  a  few  minutes, 
Robin." 

He  lifted  her  down  and  kept  his  arm  about  her  to 
steady  her  for  a  moment.  She  found  herself  a  little 
more  upset  than  she  had  fancied,  and  for  a  short  time 
leaned  against  Dick's  arm  ;  but  soon  gathering  herself 
together  she  declared  that  she  was  ready  and  able  to 
mount  again  and  join  the  hunters. 


THE   FOX   HUNT.  303 

"  Dick,  I  am  so  sorry  to  have  spoiled  the  beginning  of 
the  day  and  for  having  kept  thee  from  the  hunt." 

"  What  is  the  hunt  to  me,  Robin,  when  I  have  you 
safe,  unhurt,  and  near  me  ? "  he  exclaimed  impetuously, 
with  a  ring  in  his  voice  which  sent  a  tremor  through 
Robin  that  the  wild  ride  had  not  produced.  Other  and 
still  more  impetuous  words  sprang  to  his  lips,  but  he 
resolutely  held  them  back  and  continued  in  a  grave  way  : 

"  Comly  is  somewhere  on  the  pike  looking  for  you  too. 
He  took  the  other  road  at  the  fork,  for  we  cou!4  not  be 
certain  which  road  the  horse  would  take.  But,  my 
cousin,  I  never  saw  a  more  splendid  exhibition  of  nerve 
and  coolness  in  my  life  than  you  have  displayed." 

"  Thank  thee,  Dick,"  she  answered  quietly,  but  a  faint 
flush  came  to  her  face  at  the  words  of  praise.  She  felt 
that  there  was  more  danger  ahead  than  there  had  been  in 
the  wild  ride.  She  hastened  to  put  an  end  to  it  : 

"  Come,  Dick,  we  must  push  on  and  not  keep  the 
others  any  longer." 

"  You  are  sure  you  are  not  nervous  about  mounting 
again  ?  "  he  anxiously  asked. 

"  I  am  not  at  all  nervous.  I  am  willing  to  prophesy 
that  this  is  the  first  and  last  runaway  the  bay  horse  will 
ever  be  guilty  of." 

"  He  is  a  splendid,  powerful  animal,  but  he  is  a  trifle 
too  big  and  heavy  for  you,  cousin." 

"  Yes,  I  know  it ;  I  am  not  going  to  keep  him,  I  can- 
not afford  it." 


304  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

As  they  rode  along  slowly,  side  by  side,  Dick  said 
carelessly  :  "  I  am  looking  for  such  a  horse ;  will  you 
sell  him  ? " 

Robin  glanced  suspiciously  at  him,  as  she  asked  : 

"  Would  thee  wish  to  buy  a  horse  that  bolted  as  he  has 
done  to-day  ? " 

"  Why  not  ?  It  counts  very  little  with  me.  He  was 
frightened  and  excited  ;  he  did  not  run  through  vicious- 
ness.  I  will  give  you  five  hundred  dollars  for  him,"  he 
said  boldly. 

A  smile  broke  over  Robin's  face.  She  looked  at  her 
cousin  and  said  amusedly  : 

"  Ah,  Dick,  thee  has  over-reached  thyself  ;  the  colt  is 
not  worth  five  hundred,  and  thee  knows  it.  Thee  only 
wishes  to  buy  because  I  wish  to  sell.  Thee  cannot  have 
him,"  and  she  patted  the  neck  of  the  horse  as  she  spoke. 
Dick  turned  in  his  saddle  and  said  with  some  heat  : 
"  On  my  honor,  cousin,  I  want  to  buy  a  horse  for  hunt- 
ing ;  the  horses  I  brought  from  town  were  mostly  for 
driving.  I  will  pay  you  any  price  you  may  fix  upon 
him." 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  moments.  Robin  was 
perplexed.  Here  was  a  chance  for  a  little  ready  money  ; 
she  desired  to  sell  the  horse,  but  she  felt  convinced  that 
Dick  only  wished  to  buy  as  a  means  of  helping  her.  She 
felt,  however,  that  she  could  not  let  any  false  pride  stand 
in  the  way  for  her  mother's  sake,  so  she  said  in  a  subdued 
tone  : 


THE   FOX   HUNT.  305 

"Well,  Dick,  I  had  hoped  to  sell  him  for  two  hundred 
and  fifty  or  three  hundred  dollars,  but  scarcely  anybody 
would  give  that  who  saw  his  behavior  to-day.  I  will 
take  two  hundred  for  him." 

"  I  will  give  you  three  hundred,  your  full  price, 
cousin  ;  he  is  worth  every  bit  of  it.  I  'd  like  to  offer 
another  hundred  ;  I  owe  it  to  him  for  not  throwing  you. 
I  will  make  out  a  check  for  the  amount,  and  will  send  a 
groom  for  the  horse  any  time  you  may  name.  But  here 
comes  one  of  my  men  from  Ivanwold  in  pursuit  of  you. 
I  think  I  'd  better  send  him  to  look  up  Comly  and  tell 
him  you  are  all  right  ;  then  we  will  return  home." 

Just  then  the  ringing  sound  of  the  hounds  in  full  cry 
broke  upon  their  ears. 

"  Listen,  they  "ve  started  a  fox,  they  are  in  full  pur- 
suit," exclaimed  the  girl  excitedly.  "Come,  Dick,  let  us 
enter  the  woods  here  ;  they  are  only  about  half  a  mile 
away,  we  can  come  across  them  by  making  a  cut  through 
here." 

And  she  turned  into  the  woods  with  a  backward  glance 
at  Dick,  who  followed  her  nothing  loath. 

Meanwhile,  after  Robin  had  shot  out  of  sight  and  left 
the  party  on  the  lawn  in  consternation,  they  had  huddled 
together  waiting  the  result,  expecting  the  return  of  one 
of  the  men  ;  but  as  time  went  on  and  no  one  came  back, 
Captain  Esten  decided  that  they  had  better  move  on  in  the 
direction  which  the  runaway  had  taken  ;  no  good  could  be 
done  by  staying  on  the  lawn,  and  they  might  perhaps 


306  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

more  quickly  learn  the  result.  Robin's  skill  and  nerve 
as  a  horsewoman  were  well  known,  and  while  the  Cap- 
tain was  nervous  for  her  welfare  he  had  little  doubt  that 
she  would  come  back  safe  and  sound.  They  started  off 
in  subdued  order,  only  the  dogs  showing  any  impatience. 
Part  of  their  way  lay  through  scrubby  oak  woods. 
When  they  were  on  the  point  of  emerging  upon  the  pike 
again,  Captain  Esten  said  : 

"  See  here,  I  'm  going  to  propose  that  instead  of  going 
back  to  the  pike  we  continue  through  this  wood  ;  we  are 
not  far  out  of  reach  if  the  men  return  with  the  runaway, 
and  it  is  not  very  far  from  here  where  I  have  twice  seen 
a  fox  in  the  last  two  weeks." 

The  love  of  the  huntsman  was  fast  overcoming  the 
Captain's  anxiety.  He  believed  in  taking  things  as  they 
came,  and  he  knew  pretty  well  that  a  fox  had  a  burrow 
somewhere  in  this  same  wood.  Of  course  Robin  was  all 
right,  and  it  was  a  pity  to  lose  the  chance.  Suddenly, 
while  he  was  arguing,  the  whole  pack  of  hounds  went  off 
in  full  cry  on  a  hot  scent.  The  runaway  was  forgotten, 
all  idea  of  returning  to  the  road  was  abandoned,  and  the 
chase  began.  The  hunters  pounded  and  tore  through 
the  woods,  over  logs  and  brooks,  with  no  break  in  the 
tonguing  of  the  hounds  ;  then  out  across  fields  of  springy 
turf,  over  hedges  and  ditches,  pell-mell  in  great  haste 
they  went.  Then  the  fox  doubled,  and  the  whole  was  to 
go  over  again. 

At  last  Dick  and  Robin  emerged  from  the  woods,  just 
as  the  hounds  were  again  in  full  cry,  and  joined  the 


THE   FOX   HUNT.  3O/ 

flying  hunters,  who  had  time  only  to  wave  their  hands  in 
token  of  relief  and  greeting  at  the  safe  appearance  of 
the  girl.  A  little  later  Jared  too  appeared.  For  the  rest 
of  the  time  the  bay  horse  behaved  splendidly  ;  some- 
times he  showed  a  tendency  to  lose  his  head,  but  the 
rider,  with  her  firm  hand  and  voice,  never  lost  control. 
Not  for  an  instant  while  the  hunt  lasted  did  Dick  leave 
her  side.  Little  did  he  care  about  the  scent  lying  well, 
or  whether  there  were  any  scent  at  all  ;  his  pleasure  was 
in  noting  the  changing  expression  upon  his  cousin's  face, 
and  his  only  concern  was  in  her  disappointment  when  it 
was  finally  declared  that  the  "  game  was  up."  As  Robin 
had  predicted,  the  hunt  was  for  naught ;  no  brush  nor 
pads  were  to  be  had  that  day.  After  Robin  and  Dick 
had  joined  the  hunt  the  run' had  been  hot  and  exciting, 
with  only  occasional  breaks..  Finally  Reynard  had  dou- 
bled just  when  the  hounds  were  almost  upon  him,  and 
the  ringing  pack  was  silent,  only  to  rise  again  in  full  cry 
a  moment  later  ;  then  fox,  dogs  and  hunters  came  to  the 
river,  the  fox  disappeared,  the  hounds  plunged  into  the 
rather  shallow  stream,  and  when  they  emerged  on  the 
opposite  bank  the  scent  could  not  be  picked  up.  With 
noses  to  the  ground  they  ran  hither  and  thither  up  and 
down  the  bank,  but  fruitlessly  ;  Reynard  had  got  away. 
The  woods  and  fields  about  were  scoured  and  beaten  in 
vain.  Captain  Esten  wound  the  horn  and  called  in  the 
pack. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  return"  home  set 
in.     The  Captain   was    loud  in   his   lamentations,    and 


308  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

grumblingly  declared  that  "  the  dogs  were  n't  worth  a 
damn  ;  that  they  did  n't  know  the  scent  of  a  fox  :  and 
he  'd  bet  his  head  that  some  of  the  darkies  had  been 
coon-hunting  with  them."  It  was  not  until  the  whole 
party  had  promised  to  ride  up  to  The  Hatch  and  have  a 
light  supper  that  the  Captain  was  restored  to  good- 
nature. 

Robin  was  questioned  eagerly  by  different  ones  of  the 
party  as  to  how  she  felt  when  she  realized  that  her  horse 
was  running  away,  what  she  had  thought  about,  and 
whether  she  had  been  frightened  ;  and  as  they  clattered 
along  every  one  had  some  personal  experience  of  the 
same  sort  to  relate.  Jared  finally  rode  at  her  side,  and 
as  he  joined  her  he  said  : 

"  Thee  gave  us  a  fine  fright  this  morning,  Robin  ;  if 
thee  had  not  lost  thy  temper  and  given  the  horse  the 
whip  he  would  not  have  bolted." 

"  Perhaps  not,  Jared  ;  but  had  thee  been  in  my  place 
I  am  certain  that  thee  would  have  given  him  not  only  the 
whip  but  the  spur  too." 

And  in  her  mind  Robin  contrasted  the  two  men.  No 
matter  what  Dick  had  thought,  he  had  found  no  fault ; 
he  had  only  remembered  'that  she  had  been  in  peril, 
and  he  had  found  a  word  of  praise  for  her  nerve,  while 
Jared  had  only  words  of  reproof  for  her.  She  thought 
how  singularly  shortsighted  it  was  in  a  man  to  try  to  win 
a  woman  by  such  a  method.  She  felt  in  her  heart,  how- 
ever, that  Jared's  words  were  true  ;  she  ought  never  to 


THE   FOX   HUNT.  309 

have  struck  the  young  horse  ;  he  was  ignorant  and  ex- 
cited at  the  time,  and  she  had  only  roused  his  temper. 
Quick  to  acknowledge  the  error,  she  said  : 

"  Jared,  thee  is  right  ;  I  ought  not  to  have  struck  him 
at  all.  I  really  think,  however,  that  he  would  have  given 
me  trouble  sooner  or  later  ;  I  thought  he  meant  mischief 
from  the  start." 

"  I  hope  it  won't  confirm  him  in  running  away.  Thee 
will  not  find  a  ready  sale  for  him,  but  it  only  goes  to 
show  that  women  have  no  business  to  meddle  with  what 
is  so  obviously  out  of  their  sphere.  It  stands  to  reason 
they  don't  know  how  to  handle  horses  ;  they  invariably 
ruin  the  animal  when  they  don't  break  their  own  necks," 
Jared  said  in  a  surly  tone.  A  quick  wave  of  anger  swept 
over  Robin's  face.  Was  it  for  this  man,  and  men  like 
him,  to  mark  the  lines  between  which  women's  feet  should 
tread  ?  She  said  coldly  : 

"  Thee  need  not  trouble  thyself  about  the  sale  of  the 
horse  ;  before  we  left  the  hunting-field  to-day  he  was 
already  sold." 

"  Indeed  !  may  I  ask  who  the  gallant  purchaser  was 
who  would  buy  a  horse  upon  the  heels  of  a  runaway  ?  " 
Jared  asked  sneeringly. 

"  My  cousin,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  Of  course,  I  might  have  known  that  no  one  but  thy 
cousin  would  throw  away  money  on  a  runaway  horse.  I 
suppose  the  inducement  to  him  is  in  thy  having  broken 
and  trained  the  animal." 


3io  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

Two  bright  spots  burned  in  Robin's  cheeks,  but  she 
would  not  notice  the  sneer  and  insulting  tone  of  Jared's 
words. 

"Oh,  well,  Jared,"  she  said  coolly,  "every  one  is  not 
so  wary  and  cautious  as  thee.  Dick  is  not  afraid  of  run- 
away horses,  he  rather  likes  them.  He  is  a  very  daring 
horseman." 

Jared  turned  a  dull  leaden  hue.  "  Does  thee  mean 
that  I  am  a  coward  ?  "  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  rising  anger, 
and  turning  fiercely  towards  her  in  his  saddle. 

"Yes,  I  mean  thee  is  a  coward,  just  that,"  she  said, 
looking  him  in  the  eyes. 

"  When  have  I  ever  shown  myself  less  courageous  than 
thy  cousin  ? "  he  asked  in  suppressed  rage. 

"  Thee  shows  thyself  a  coward  now  to  vent  thy  temper 
and  sneers  continually  upon  a  woman,  who  has  not  the 
power  to  resent  them  as  a  man  would  do.  Thee  knows 
that  I  have  one  way  of  freeing  myself  from  them,  but 
thee  knows  also  that  I  am  not  likely  to  resort  to  it ;  and 
thee  takes  advantage  of  it.  Now  I  ask  if  that  is  not 
cowardly  ? " 

She  waited  a  moment,  but  Jared  did  not  reply.  His 
face  was  white,  and  the  veins  stood  out  in  his  forehead. 
He  understood  that  Robin  meant  that  she  could  free 
herself  from  him  by  dismissing  him  like  any  other  of  her 
laborers.  It  was  the  second  time  she  had  warned  him  of 
it  since  he  had  lived  at  Airlie,  and  he  knew  he  had 
brought  it  upon  himself ;  but  he  was  in  too  great  a  pas- 


THE   FOX    HUNT.  311 

sion  of  anger  and  despair  at  himself  and  at  her  to  make 
any  rejoinder.  There  was  silence  for  a  brief  time  ;  then 
Robin's  heart  smote  her  for  her  sudden  outburst.  She 
knew  so  well  what  was  in  Jared's  heart,  and  what  had 
spurred  him  on  to  be  rough  and  sneering.  She  said 
gently  : 

"Jared,  forgive  me  for  speaking  in  such  temper.  I 
cannot  forget  thy  kindness  to  mother  and  me  all  these 
months." 

She  paused  a  moment,  and  held  out  her  hand.  Jared 
did  not  take  it,  but  nodded  his  head  with  a  quick  jerk,  in 
token  that  he  accepted  her  amende.  With  a  slight  color 
in  her  cheek,  Robin  continued  : 

"  It  is  hard  for  me  to  realize,  Jared,  that  thee  in  thy 
sneering  moods  is  the  same  man  who  first  came  to  Airlie, 
and  who  was  so  gentle  towards  mother  and  me."  She 
was  silent  a  moment,  but  Jared's  face  was  flint. 

Just  then  Thaddy  rode  up. 

"  What  "s  the  row  ?  You  two  've  been  waggin"  your 
heads  at  each  other  for  two  miles  ;  I  Ve  been  watchin' 
from  behin'." 

"  You  should  have  come  sooner,  Watkins  ;  you  've 
missed  an  eloquent  lecture  upon  courage,"  Jared  said, 
with  a  glitter  in  his  eyes. 

"I  don'  won'er,  Comly,  after  the  pluck  Miss  Rob 
showed  this  mornin'." 

"  Oh,  she  was  not  dwelling  on  her  own  remarkable 
prowess  of  this  morning,  but  upon  manly  courage  as 
exemplified  by  her  cousin,"  he  recklessly  said. 


312  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

Robin  gave  him  a  keen,  stern  glance  ;  then  addressing 
herself  to  Thaddy,  she  said  : 

"  I  think  I  will  fall  back  and  wait  for  Harmony." 

"  Don*  do  it,  Miss  Rob  ;  Stan'ish  mos'  as  good  as  tol* 
me  in  so  many  words  jus'  now  to  get  out." 

The  two  men  rode  on,  and  Robin  halted  in  the  road 
till  the  others  came  up.  Then  they  all  rode  slowly 
towards  The  Hatch.  Dick  quickly  noted  the  strange 
look  upon  his  cousin's  face,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  You  are  worn*  out,  my  cousin  ;  let  me  take  you 
straight  to  Airlie,  instead  of  stopping  with  the  rest  "  ; 
and  Dick  checked  his  horse. 

As  he  spoke,  there  came  back  to  Robin  the  memory 
of  the  time  when  as  a  child  she  had  told  Deborah  con- 
fidingly that  she  thought  Dick  and  Adsum  "the  two 
nicest  people  "  she  knew.  And  she  felt,  as  she  looked 
into  her  cousin's  grave  and  anxious  face,  that,  while  she 
should  scarcely  put  it  that  way  to-day,  still  the  child's 
opinion  of  years  ago  was  but  the  far-away  intimation  of 
the  woman's. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

FOOL'S    MANOR. 

"COR  the  few  days  succeeding  the  hunt  Robin  avoided 
Jared.  The  color  mounted  to  her  face  every  time 
she  recalled  the  sneer  in  his  tone  and  manner  when  he 
had  spoken  of  her  cousin.  She  felt  that  she  had  borne 
from  him  more  than  her  dignity  would  allow,  and  that 
the  time  was  at  hand  for  taking  steps  to  end  the  situa- 
tion. Jared  himself  had  spent  little  time  with  them 
lately.  He  scarcely  ever  came  to  his  meals,  and  when 
he  did  he  maintained  an  unbroken  silence.  There  was 
a  marked  change  in  him,  and  beyond  the  barest  civilities 
no  word  passed  between  the  two  young  people.  There 
was  a  sort  of  defiance  about  him  which  even  Dorothea 
noticed,  and  with  her  ever  sweet,  womanly  tact  she  had 
tried  to  win  him  to  pleasanter  manner  and  speech,  but  in 
vain.  At  last  one  day  she  said  to  her  daughter : 

"  Robin,  what  is  to  be  done  about  Jared  ?  he  distresses 
me  ;  there  is  a  recklessness  and  a  rudeness  about  him 
for  which  I  cannot  understand  the  reason.  Thee  has 
not  rejected  him  ?  " 


314  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

"  No,  mother,  he  has  given  me  no  chance,  and  I  am 
sure  now  he  never  will ;  but  I  am  not  disposed  to  tol- 
erate him  and  his  savage  moods  much  longer.  If  he 
takes  no  steps  himself,  I  shall  be  obliged  to  tell  him  he 
must  leave  Airlie." 

"  Well,  Robin,  I  cannot  blame  thee.  Jared  surprises 
me  very  much.  He  has  taken  a  queer,  crooked  turn 
somehow  lately.  He  acts  like  a  man  who  has  a  grudge. 
He  did  not  use  to  be  so,  and  I  do  not  understand  him. 
I  think  in  simple  dignity  to  ourselves  we  cannot  go  on 
much  longer  as  we  are." 

"  I  am  glad  thee  feels  that  way,  for  I  have  had  to  bear 
a  great  deal  from  Jared,  even  to  downright  insolence." 

But  Robin  did  not  repeat  to  her  mother  his  rough  re- 
marks and  sneers.  She  felt  that  she  could  not  lower 
Jared  in  her  mother's  eyes,  and  that  it  was  best  to  leave 
her  in  ignorance.  Nor  had  she  told  her  mother  of  the 
running  away  of  the  horse  on  the  day  of  the  hunt ;  she 
knew  it  would  be  a  needless  worry  to  her. 

At  last,  one  day  Jared  abruptly  announced  that  he 
should  be  away  for  a  few  days  on  business.  He  did  not 
state  where  he  was  going,  or  when  li£  should  start,  nor 
did  any  one  on  the  place  know  when  he  went.  He  did 
not  appear  at  breakfast  one  morning,  and  it  was  found 
that  his  horse  was  gone  from  the  stable.  It  was  the  first 
time  since  he  had  come  to  Airlie  that  he  had  ever  spent 
any  length  of  time  away,  and  the  circumstance  was  noted 
by  both  women  as  unusual.  Robin  had  a  suspicion  that 


FOOI/S    MANOR.  315 

perhaps  he  did  not  mean  to  return  at  all,  or  that  he  was 
meditating  going  away  for  good ;  for  she  remembered 
that  years  ago,  when  a  half-grown  boy,  he  had  left  his 
home  suddenly  and  secretly,  never  returning  till  years 
afterwards,  and  then  appearing  as  suddenly  as  he  had 
gone.  At  the  end  of  a  week  Jared  returned  quietly. 
No  questions  were  asked  and  no  information  was  volun- 
teered upon  his  part  as  to  where  he  had  been  or  what 
he  had  been  doing.  He  seemed  to  have  recovered  from 
his  recent  ill-temper,  and  although  he  was  very  grave 
there  was  no  trace  of  sullenness.  Dorothea  was  re- 
lieved ;  she  felt  that  the  necessity  for  them  to  take  any 
immediate  steps  towards  change  was  removed,  and  she 
was  disposed  to  forget  his  past  strange  behavior.  Robin, 
however,  was  not  relieved  by  this  difference  in  manner. 
She  had  braced  herself  for  a  plain  talk,  in  which  she 
should  tell  him  that  there  would  have  to  be  a  different 
arrangement.  She  felt  that  she  could  not  do  so  now, 
in  the  light  of  his  change  of  base  ;  that  the  day  for  plain- 
speaking  must  be  postponed. 

Meanwhile  the  very  end  of  September  had  come,  and 
the  summer  weather  still  lingered.  The  young  people  of 
the  neighborhood  seemed  fairly  let  loose  in  a  round  of 
amusements,  and  various  were  the  tea-drinkings  under 
the  trees  on  old-fashioned  lawns,  picnics  in  the  woods, 
and  old-time  contra-dances  in  the  barns.  For  Friends 
though  they  were,  they  were  thoroughly  modernized,  and 
they  were  more  than  all  else  true  Marylanders,  and 


316  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

spent  their  leisure,  like  the  planters  in  old  Maryland 
days,  in  open-air  amusements.  The  days  were  shorten- 
ing perceptibly.  The  sun,  which  had  been  setting  be- 
hind a  clump  of  lilac  bushes  in  the  west  lawn,  was  now 
shedding  its  rays  through  the  branches  of  an  elm  tree 
further  down.  Tea  was  over.  Harmony  had  been  at 
Airlie  all  the  afternoon,  and  was  now  sitting  on  the  top 
step  of  the  porch,  leaning  against  a  post  which  supported 
the  railing.  Robin  was  standing  a  few  feet  away  watch- 
ing the  turkeys  going  solemnly  to  roost  in  the  catalpa 
tree  near  the  end  of  the  porch.  Adsum  and  Whack 
were  both  at  hand,  and  Jared  was  on  the  porch  smoking 
his  evening  pipe.  Harmony  suddenly  exclaimed  : 

"  Here  come  your  cousin  and  Henry  Standish,  Robin." 

The  cart  rattled  loudly  over  the  stones  ;  the  dogs  ran 
out  and  barked.  Jared  rose,  knocked  the  ashes  from 
his  pipe,  and  prepared  to  go  forward  to  greet  the  two 
men,  much  to  Robin's  surprise.  In  a  moment  they  were 
all  sitting  on  the  steps,  carelessly  grouped  in  the  fading 
light  of  the  soft  day.  Dorothea  had  come  out  to  her 
high-backed  chair. 

"  Well,  young  people,"  she  said,  "  what  is  on  hand 
now  ?  I  have  n't  heard  of  any  gayety  for  at  least  twenty- 
four  hours." 

"  I  think  we  have  come  to  the  end  of  our  rope.  I  wish 
some  one  could  suggest  something  new  as  a  wind  up," 
said  Harmony,  plaintively. 

"  By   the  way,"   said   Dick,   "  I   remember  a  queer 


FOOL'S    MANOR.  317 

haunted  old  place  somewhere  in  the  adjoining  county, 
which  has  been  deserted  for  years  and  has  an  out-of- 
the-way  name  which  I  don't  recall  ;  we  might  make  up 
a  party  and  go  there  one  of  these  early  moonlight  nights. 
What  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  Thee  is  thinking,  Richard,  of  Fool's  Manor,  but  it 
is  too  far  away  and  over  a  bad  road,"  objected  Dorothea. 

"  What  is  Fool's  Manor  ?  "  asked  Standish. 

"Yes,"  added  Harmony,  "I  never  heard  of  such  a 
place." 

"  Well,"  explained  Robin,  "  it  is  a  magnificent  old 
manor-house  standing  weird  and  deserted  in  the  midst 
of  a  dense  wood,  about  twenty  miles  from  here.  It  was 
built  some  seventy  or  eighty  years  ago.  No  one  has 
ever  lived  in  it.  It  is  completely  isolated,  but  is  kept  in 
perfect  repair.  It  is  said  to  be  haunted,  and  there  are 
all  sorts  of  terrible  tales  told  about  it." 

"  Could  we  get  in  if  we  were  to  go  ?  "  asked  Dick. 

"  Yes,  an  old  man  and  his  wife  live  in  the  woods  near 
by  who  take  care  of  it ;  they  let  people  go  into  the  house. 
But  for  some  reason  the  whole  region  is  shunned.  It  is 
said  that  those  who  are  rash  enough  to  visit  Fool's  Manor 
are  invariably  overtaken  by  misfortune." 

"  Why  was  it  called  by  such  a  queer  name  ?  "  asked 
Harmony. 

"  Well,  you  see  it  was  built  by  a  woman,  one  of  the 
Burnleys.  Her  father  died  and  left  her  in  his  will  only 
enough  money  to  build  a  house,  so  out  of  revenge  she 


318  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

commenced  this  manor-house  in  the  most  inaccessible 
spot  she  could  find,  determining  to  make  it  cost  as  much 
as  possible,  the  stone  having  to  be  hauled  all  the  way 
from  town.  It  is  said  to  be  magnificent.  When  it  was 
done,  of  course  there  was  no  money  left  to  clear  the 
woods  or  to  live  upon,  so  there  it  stands  to  this  day 
silent  and  empty,  and  gloomy  beyond  what  one's  fancy 
can  paint." 

"  Does  any  one  know  the  way  ? "  There  was  silence 
for  a  moment ;  then  Jared  said  : 

"  I  know  the  way,  I  have  been  there." 

"  The  very  thing  ;  let  us  go  by  all  means.    Let  us  start 

in  the  afternoon  and  come  home  in  the  evening,  when 

i 

the  early  moon  rises,"  said  Dick. 

"  But,  Richard,  I  cannot  let  these  girls  go  on  such  a 
jaunt  with  no  married  person  with  them." 

"  I  '11  make  father  go,"  said  Harmony  ;  "  we  can  have 
our  three-seated  light-covered  wagon,  and  let  's  have 
four  horses." 

"  I  will  send  up  my  horses.  I  have  four  which  travel 
well  together  ;  I  had  them  out  yesterday,"  said  Dick. 

"  I  insist  that  Jared  must  drive,"  said  Dorothea,  "  for 
the  road  is  very  steep  and  dangerous  in  some  places,  and 
he  knows  the  way." 

"  Certainly,  Comly  must  drive,  that  is  if  he  will,"  said 
Dick,  turning  towards  him. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Jared  shortly. 

"  But  Mr.  Standish  has  n't  spoken  a  word,"  said 
Harmony. 


FOOT/S   MANOR.  319 

"  Well,  I  could  not  get  in  a  word  ;  but  now  that  I  am 
consulted,  I  will  put  in  an  application  for  the  back  seat 
of  the  wagon,"  he  said,  looking  at  Harmony. 

"Certainly,  you  and  father  shall  have  the  back  seat 
together,"  she  demurely  said. 

A  few  days  later  at  The  Hatch  the  wagon,  with  the 
curtains  rolled  up,  was  ready  at  the  door.  The  light- 
hearted  party  was  to  start  rather  early  in  the  afternoon. 
The  weather  was  sultry,  even  oppressive,  as  it  often  is  in 
early  autumn.  A  hamper  of  luncheon  was  stowed  away, 
then  the  Captain  said  : 

"  How  are  we  to  sit  ?  " 

"  Father,  you  are  to  sit  on  the  back  seat  with  Mr. 
Standish." 

"  Your  grandmother !  "  ejaculated  the  Captain,  and 
climbed  to  the  front  seat  beside  Jared,  who  already 
held  the  reins.  After  the  Captain  was  seated  he  called 
out : 

"  Some  of  you  just  look  and  see  if  the  lantern  is 
hanging  underneath  the  wagon." 

"  Yes,  but  we  shan  't  want  a  lantern,"  said  his  daughter. 

"  I  make  it  a  rule  never  to  go  anywhere  over  these 
roads  at  night  without  one,"  said  the  Captain  in  explana- 
tion as  they  started  off. 

Jared  was  an  expert  in  handling  a  four-in-hand,  and 
they  bowled  over  the  ground  making  fast  time.  The 
first  of  the  way  led  through  Fenny  Drayton  and 
within  a  couple  of  miles  of  Ivanwold,  then  it  branched 


320  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

off  and  took  them  into  an  adjoining  county,  where 
the  road  began  to  be  narrow  and  rough.  It  led 
through  woods  and  over  streams,  and  in  several  places 
the  road  was  divided  into  two  parts,  a  lower  dirt  or 
summer  road,  and  some  three  or  four  feet  above  it  a 
stony  upper  road,  evidently  to  be  used  in  bad  weather 
when  the  rains  made  the  lower  way  impassable.  Each 
of  the  party  was  struck  with  the  danger  such  a  marked 
difference  in  the  levels  made,  especially  as  upon  the 
edge  of  the  lower  road  the  bank  slipped  away  in  a 
rather  steep  declivity. 

"  A  ticklish  road  I  should  call  this,  hey,  Jared  ? "  said 
the  Captain. 

"  You  are  not  nervous  about  my  driving,  I  hope  ? "  he 
answered  touchily. 

"Bless  me,  no,"  the  Captain  good-humoredly  replied. 

When  the  sun  was  a  couple  of  hours  high,  they  left 
the  main  road  and  plunged  into  the  narrow,  winding 
way  which  led  for  a  short  mile  through  the  wood  which 
surrounded  the  old  manor-house.  They  could  see  above 
the  tree-tops  the  towers  of  the  weird  building  j  ust  touched 
by  the  rays  of  the  sun.  They  found  the  poor,  meagre 
dwelling  of  the  keepers  of  the  strange  place,  which  stood 
in  a  small  clearing.  They  hitched  their  horses,  and  in 
return  for  a  piece  of  silver  received  the  keys  of  the 
building.  Then  the  men  of  the  party  held  back  the 
thick  branches  of  the  trees  and  underbrush  to  make  a 
way  for  the  two  girls  to  advance.  Harmony  kept  close 


FOOLS   MANOR.  321 

to  Robin,  who  was  in  front  of  her.  She  said  in  an 
undertone  : 

"What  a  gruesome  place  ;  I  wish  we  had  n't  come." 

They  threaded  their  way  carefully,  with  a  crackling  of 
branches  attending  every  step,  and  suddenly  found 
themselves  confronted  by  the  grim,  cold  stones  of  the 
massive  building,  with  the  forest  trees  and  undergrowth 
brushing  against  its  very  walls.  They  entered  the  im- 
posing door,  with  suites  of  rooms  opening  from  the 
grand  hall  within.  Their  footsteps  echoed  drearily 
and  their  voices  were  instinctively  lowered  to  suit  the 
hush  that  fell  like  a  pall  about  them.  All  over  the 
building  they  went,  from  room  to  room  and  hall  to 
hall,  gazing  out  of  windows  from  which  there  was  no 
view,  only  the  trees  of  the  forest  stretching  away  upon 
all  sides. 

"  Let  us  get  out  into  the  open  air  ;  I  feel  as  if  I  were 
in  a  living  tomb,"  said  Harmony,  in  a  low  voice. 

She  turned  to  descend.  Robin  lingered  at  one  of  the 
tower  windows  to  trace  out  the  road,  which  like  a  thread 
wound  in  and  out  of  the  wood  below.  She  was  think- 
ing, somehow,  of  the  old  legend  of  Rosamond's  bower 
in  the  labyrinth,  and  the  kingly  lover  who  could  only 
find  his  way  to  and  from  by  means  of  a  thread  he  was 
always  careful  to  unwind.  She  heard  the  steps  of  the 
others  resounding  distantly,  as  they  made  their  way 
through  the  corridors  and  down  the  stairs.  She  turned 
to  hurry  after  them,  when  she  saw  that  Jared  had  also 

21 


322  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

remained  and  was  standing  in  the  doorway.  She  ap- 
proached the  door  as  if  to  go. 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  he  said,  and  he  put  out  his  hand 
to  detain  her.  There  was  a  mingling  of  expressions 
upon  his  face  ;  his  restless  eyes  were  bent  upon 
her  with  a  fierce  glow  in  them.  His  mouth  was  drawn 
in  a  stern,  straight  line,  and  there  was  a  sound  in  his 
voice  that  made  the  girl  nerve  herself  for  the  long- 
dreaded  encounter.  He  gazed  at  her  for  a  moment, 
then  broke  out  suddenly  and  roughly  : 

"  Robin,  I  can  endure  this  hell  no  longer.  I  have 
been  almost  mad  for  months,  and  I  must  speak,  though 
thee  should  drive  me  from  thee.  I  love  thee.  I  came 
long  ago  to  Airlie  solely  because  I  loved  thee,  and  if  I 
go  from  thee,  never  to  return,  it  will  be  because  thee 
bids  me." 

Jared  hurled  out  his  words  in  a  quick,  defiant  way. 
There  was  no  tenderness  in  the  voice,  no  tenderness  in 
the  eyes  ;  only  a  fierce  passion  burned  in  both.  Then 
he  went  on,  rather  in  a  tone  of  demand  than  of  entreaty  : 

"  Robin,  speak  to  me  ;  tell  me  the  last  few  weeks  have 
been  forgotten,  that  thee  will  not  cast  my  love  from  thee. 
I  have  given  thee  my  all  ;  give  me  but  a  word  in  return." 

He  made  a  quick  step  forward  and  stretched  out  his 
arms  towards  her.  Involuntarily  Robin  shrank  back 
against  the  window.  The  movement  was  slight,  but  un- 
mistakable. A  change  of  expression  swept  over  his 
face  ;  he  became  ashen,  and  the  thin  lips  curled  into 


FOOL'S   MANOR.  323 

their  sneering  expression.  His  arms  dropped  to  his 
side.  He  said,  in  a  low,  bitter  tone  : 

"  Thee  need  not  speak,  I  understand.  A  woman  who 
shrinks  is  not  a  woman  who  has  any  love  for  me,  but 
only  fear  and  dislike."  He  made  a  move  to  go,  then 
turned  and  came  striding  back  to  her  side,  his  face 
aflame,  and  in  a  passionate  voice  cried  : 

"  Has  thee  any  idea  of  what  this  is  to  me  ?  It  is  not 
only  my  love  but  my  very  life  thee  is  depriving  me  of. 
Thee  is  casting  me  back  upon  my  own  dark  and  bitter 
thoughts  ;  thoughts  of  which  thee  has  no  conception, 
thoughts  that  lead  to  deeds,  deeds  that  make  a  man 
wander  over  God's  earth  an  alien,  an  outcast." 

His  voice  had  gradually  risen  to  a  high,  excited  pitch, 
and  at  his  last  words  the  color  forsook  Robin's  cheek. 
She  stepped  forward,  grasped  his  arm,  and  said  quietly  : 

"  Thee  is  talking  like  a  madman." 

"  Ay  !  a  madman  perhaps,  but  a  man  with  the  bitter- 
ness of  death  in  his  heart  does  not  pick  his  words  and 
attune  them  to  cold,  indifferent  ears.  How  much  does 
thee  know  or  care  what  this  is  to  me  ? " 

"  Jared,  I  would  spare  thee  all  of  this  if  I  could.  I 
have  tried  for  weeks  to  show  thee  that  I  could  not  give 
thee  what  thee  asks." 

"  Yes,  thee  has  shown  me  this,  by  showing  me  the 
love  of  another  man,  by  taunting  me  with  cowardice," 
he  fiercely  cried.  Suddenly  he  bent  his  head  and 
brought  his  face  close  to  hers,  and  said  entreatingly  : 


324  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

"  Robin,  take  back  the  charge  of  cowardice  ;  tell  me 
thee  did  not  mean  it  ? " 

"  Jared,  I  took  it  back  long  ago.    It  was  only  a  flash." 

"  Bid  me  stay,  give  me  one  word  ;  it  is  my  life,  my 
soul,  I  am  pleading  for,"  he  continued,  while  hope 
sprang  for  a  moment  to  his  eyes. 

"  I  cannot  !  I  cannot  !  "  She  looked  at  him  pityingly. 
All  the  sneers  and  roughness  were  forgotten ;  she 
thought  only  of  the  man  offering  the  best  gift  in  his 
possession. 

He  gazed  at  her  fixedly.  He  read  the  truth  in  her 
pitying  eyes,  and  turning  away  with  a  groan  he  threw 
out  his  right  arm  suddenly  as  if  to  encounter  a  foe,  and 
struck  the  door-jamb  with  his  clenched  fist.  Then  he 
rushed  from  the  room,  and  she  heard  his  steps  resound 
on  the  silent  stairs  and  echo  through  the  empty  house. 
She  turned  back  to  the  window,  but  she  could  no  longer 
see  the  thread  of  road  in  the  woods  below,  for  her  eyes 
were  blinded  by  tears.  She  stood  and  watched  the 
gathering  gloom,  till  her  name  rang  through  the  corri- 
dors below.  They  were  looking  for  her.  As  she  swiftly 
passed  down  the  stairs,  scarcely  touching  them  as  she 
went,  she  met  her  cousin  at  the  foot.  She  feared  that  he 
would  read  in  her  face  the  emotion  she  was  trying  to 
repress.  As  she  emerged  into  the  faint  light,  Harmony 
exclaimed  : 

"  Robin,  you  have  seen  something  in  that  terrible 
place,  what  is  it  ?  " 


FOOL'S   MANOR.  325 

"  Nonsense,  Harmony,  how  imaginative  you  are,"  she 
replied. 

"  Where  is  Jared  ? "  asked  the  Captain. 

"  He  said  something  about  looking  to  the  horses  a 
moment  ago  ;  I  did  not  observe  which  way  he  went," 
said  Dick. 

"  We  had  better  have  our  supper,  I  think,  and  then 
get  away  from  this  place.  It  is  a  dismal  hole.  What 
on  earth  you  wanted  to  come  for  I  can't  conceive," 
growled  the  Captain. 

"  Suppose  we  go  to  the  wagon  and  have  our  supper  ? 
It  is  much  less  shut  in,  and  we  can  have  at  least  a  few 
moments  of  daylight  left  us,"  suggested  Dick. 

The  door  of  the  old  manor-house  was  swung  to  with  a 
loud  clang  and  locked,  and  the  party  threaded  its  way 
back  to  the  carriage. 

"  Unless  I  am  much  mistaken,  we  shall  have  precious 
little  moon  to-night,"  said  Captain  Esten,  pointing  to 
masses  of  dark  cloud  which  were  slowly  covering  the 
faint,  misty  blue  of  the  sky.  They  delivered  the  key  to 
the  dwellers  of  the  hut  and  walked  to  the  clearing  a  few 
paces  away,  where  the  horses  stood  and  where  an 
encouraging  amount  of  daylight  still  lingered.  There 
they  found  Jared. 

"  What  a  curious  effect  this  half-light  has  on  people," 
remarked  Standish ;  "  we  all  look  as  if  we  'd  seen 
goblins  and  ghosts.  Comly  is  absolutely  livid." 

"  All  of  our  faces  have  a  queer  tint  in  this  fading  light," 


326  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

said  Dick,  cheerfully,  trying  to  call  attention  from  Jared. 
He  felt  certain  that  something  of  moment  had  happened 
to  him  ;  for  while  the  others  had  been  looking  round 
the  outside  of  the  house  he  had  seen  Jared  rush  out  as 
if  pursued  and  disappear  into  the  woods.  Then  when  he 
had  gone  in  search  of  his  cousin,  whom  he  met  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairs,  there  were  unmistakable  traces  of 
tears  on  her  face,  and  Dick  said  to  himself  :  "  It  is  all 
over  for  Comly,  poor  fellow ;  we  're  both  in  the  same 
box."  And  he  smiled  to  himself,  but  he  knew  that  he 
did  not  mean  to  abide  by  the  decision  in  his  own  case. 

He  threw  himself  into  the  task  of  rousing  the  spirits 
of  the  party  ;  he  must  divert  the  eyes  of  others  from 
Jared,  he  must  protect  his  cousin  also  from  her  share  of 
suspicious  glances.  And  while  they  ate  their  supper, 
sitting  about  upon  the  carriage  cushions  almost  in  the 
shadow  of  the  weird  building,  never  had  Dick  been  so 
brilliant.  He  told  one  good  story  after  another,  until 
Standish  caught  the  spark  and  waked  from  his  indiffer- 
ence to  tell  droll  experiences.  But  both  were  topped 
by  the  Captain,  who,  after  a  glass  or  two  of  wine, 
launched  forth  into  his  most  cherished  and  most  marv- 
ellous yarns,  all  of  a  very  salty  flavor,  till  the  woods 
echoed  with  their  gay  laughter  and  jests. 

All  but  Jared,  who  leaned  with  folded  arms  against 
the  -trunk  of  a  tree,  grim  and  mute.  He  ate  nothing, 
and  when  he  moved  at  all  it  was  to  drink  repeatedly  of 
the  wine  which  was  going  the  rounds. 


FOOL'S   MANOR.  327 

At  last  a  vivid  flash  of  lightning,  followed  by  the 
heavy  roll  of  thunder,  brought  them  all  to  their  feet. 
The  hamper  was  hurriedly  packed  away  ;  the  curtains  of 
the  wagon  were  made  ready  to  lower  ;  then  they  climbed 
to  their  places  as  before.  The  horses'  heads  were 
turned  towards  home,  and  they  rolled  away,  leaving 
Fool's  Manor  to  the  gloom  of  the  woods. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

OUTRIDING  THE  STORM. 

TN  spite  of  the  blinding  flashes  of  lightning  which  con- 
tinually forked  the  sky,  and  the  crash  of  peal  after 
peal  of  thunder,  the  rain  held  off.  The  night  was  very 
sultry,  and  it  had  been  unanimously  decided  not  to  lower 
the  curtains  of  the  wagon.  Not  a  star  was  to  be  seen, 
much  less  did  the  moon  lend  her  light,  and  black  was  the 
way.  In  spite  of  the  threatening  storm  the  young  people 
kept  up  an  incessant  and  bright  flow  of  spirits  ;  the  rat- 
tling pace  of  the  horses,  and  the  easy,  swinging  motion 
of  the  vehicle  had  an  exhilarating  effect,  and  they  en- 
joyed spinning  along  through  the  dark  night,  trying  to 
outride  the  storm.  Fortunately  the  first  miles  of  the  way 
were  over  a  broad,  level  dirt  road,  and  Jared  drove  the 
horses  at  their  full  speed.  He  had  been  absorbed  in  his 
own  dark  and  dreary  thoughts  ever  since  his  rejection  in 
the  tower  window.  Every  once  in  a  while  he  let  out  his 
long  whip,  and  a  savage  cut  would  fall  upon  the  backs  of 
the  leaders.  The  horses  would  bound  forward  at  the 
stroke  of  the  whip,  and  the  wagon  would  rock  and  sway 
from  side  to  side.  At  last  the  Captain  said  : 

328 


OUTRIDING   THE   STORM.  329 

"  You  drive  as  if  the  devil  were  after  you,  Comly  ; 
you  '11  have  to  haul  in  a  bit  when  we  come  to  the  dan- 
gerous places  ahead." 

But  the  Captain  received  no  word  in  return  for  his 
remonstrance.  The  speed  of  the  horses  was  not  abated. 
The  young  people  behind  began  to  flag  in  their  talk,  and 
finally  the  conversation  languished  altogether.  Each 
one  seemed  to  retire  to  his  or  her  own  thoughts.  It  was 
almost  impossible  to  see  an  inch  of  the  road.  As  they 
dashed  along  they  could  hear  sometimes  the  splash  of 
water  as  they  plunged  through  some  shallow  stream,  and 
when  they  turned  the  sudden  curves  that  made  part  of  the 
way  almost  serpentine  in  its  course,  they  swayed  and 
rocked  from  side  to  side  till  each  one  grasped  the  side  or 
the  back  of  the  seat  to  keep  from  going  out  upon  the 
road. 

At  last  Robin  started  forward,  in  either  alarm  or  in- 
dignation. Dick  said  in  a  low  tone  : 

"  You  are  nervous  at  Comly's  reckless  driving  ;  shall 
I  take  the  reins  ?  " 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  no,  Dick.  Please  do  not  say  any 
thing  ;  I  will  speak  if  it  becomes  necessary." 

But  she  did  not  speak  ;  she  leaned  back  again  in  the 
glqom  of  her  corner,  shut  her  hands  together  resolutely, 
and  waited.  They  dashed  on  for  a  few  miles.  The 
darkness  seemed  to  grow  more  intense,  until  it  was  im- 
possible to  distinguish  the  outline  of  any  one  in  the  vehi- 
cle, save  when  a  flash  illumined  their  faces.  Harmony, 


330  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

as  if  to  keep  up  her  heart,  began  to  sing  from  the  back 
seat.  Standish  joined  in,  and  their  voices  rose  and  fell, 
sometimes  coming  out  loud  and  clear,  then  lost  com- 
pletely in  the  rolling  thunder.  They  knew  that  they 
were  near  the  place  where  the  divided  road  began,  which 
they  had  all  remarked  upon  in  the  afternoon.  Captain 
Esten  turned  to  Dick  and  said  over  his  shoulder,  in  a 
tone  loud  enough  for  all  to  hear  : 

"  Don't  you  think  we  'd  better  have  the  lantern  ?  no 
use  tempting  Providence,  as  I  see,  and  Comly  is  as  reck- 
less as  the  devil." 

Jared  did  not  appear  to  hear  the  Captain  ;  if  he  did 
he  made  no  sign,  but  kept  along  at  top  speed.  Dick  rose 
up  from  his  seat  behind,  and  leaning  over,  said,  in  a 
cool,  authoritative  tone  : 

"  See  here,  Comly,  hold  in  your  horses.  The  Captain 
and  the  ladies  desire  you  to  drive  more  carefully.  We 
are  approaching  the  dangerous  places  ;  pull  up,  while  I 
get  out  and  light  the  lantern." 

But  Dick  spoke  to  deaf  ears.  Jared  was  perfectly 
rigid.  He  made  no  movement  to  pull  in  the  horses. 
They  were  going  down  a  rather  steep  incline  at  almost  a 
run,  and  as  a  flash  of  lightning  played  around  them  for 
a  moment  Dick  saw  the  road  before  them,  the  upper 
portion  stony  and  narrow,  the  lower,  some  four  feet  be- 
low, broader  but  shelving  off.  He  also  saw,  as  he  leaned 
over  the  seat,  the  expression  on  Jared's  face.  It  was  as  if 
he  were  entirely  oblivious  of  his  surroundings  ;  as  if  he 


OUTRIDING   THE   STORM.  331 

neither  heard  the  storm  about  him,  saw  the  dangerous 
road  ahead,  nor  heard  the  request  just  made.  His  look 
was  that  of  a  despairing,  desperate  man,  who,  absorbed 
by  some  fierce  conflict  within,  was  reckless  and  regardless 
of  any  danger  that  might  threaten.  It  was  clear  to  Dick 
that  some  strange,  wild  mood  held  Jared  in  its  grasp.  He 
wondered  if  it  were  possible  the  wine  he  had  taken  had 
maddened  him  in  some  unaccountable  way.  There  was 
no  time  to  lose.  The  horses  must  be  pulled  in  or  turned 
into  the  lower,  safer  road,  if  they  were  to  escape  an 
overturn.  Dick  towered  up  behind  Jared  with  the  im- 
pulse to  wrench  the  reins  from  his  grasp,  but  he  knew  it 
was  already  too  late,  that  he  would  inevitably  precipitate 
the  very  catastrophe  which  seemed  to  stare  them  in  the 
face.  He  laid  his  hand  in  strong  pressure  upon  Jared's 
shoulder,  saying  sternly  : 

"  For  God's  sake,  Comly,  look  sharp  ;  take  the  lower 
road." 

All  within  the  wagon  heard  the  words  and  the  warning 
of  danger.  Harmony's  song  died  upon  her  lips.  Robin 
put  out  her  hand  involuntarily  towards  her  cousin,  then 
withdrew  it  and  braced  herself  against  the  back  of  her 
seat.  A  terrible  silence  fell  upon  them,  and  the  dark- 
ness wrapped  them  about  like  a  mantle.  The  wheels 
grated  over  the  stones  of  the  upper  road,  there  was  a 
moment  of  steadiness,  then  they  turned  a  little  upon  the 
edge,  there  was  a  queer  motion  of  uncertain  level,  then 
Standish  said  in  a  low,  cool  voice  : 


332  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

"  By  Jove,  we  're  done  for." 

Some  one  said  :     "  Hush  !  " 

The  wagon  made  a  lurch,  partly  righted  itself,  swayed 
again,  and  went  crashing  down  upon  the  lower  road. 
The  horses  made  a  struggle  to  keep  their  foothold, 
there  was  a  straining  and  snapping  of  the  harness, 
then  they  went  down,  plunging  and  struggling  to 
break  loose.  There  was  not  a  sound  from  the  wagon. 
The  wind  and  thunder  had  died  away  for  a  moment, 
and  all  was  still  save  for  the  movement  and  rattle 
among  the  horses.  How  long  a  time  passed  no  one 
could  ever  tell  afterwards,  but  at  last  Dick's  voice  rang 
out  in  the  dark  night  : 

"  Robin,  my  cousin,  where  are  you  ?  " 

"  Here,  Dick,"  came  her  voice,  clear  and  low. 

"  Are  you  hurt  ? "  he  anxiously  said,  as  he  groped 
about  for  her. 

"  No,  I  think  not  much  ;  where  are  the  rest  ?  Har- 
mony ?  "  she  called  anxiously.  There  came  a  smothered, 
faint  reply  from  the  interior  of  the  wagon. 

"  Get  her  out  quickly,  Dick."  Dick  stumbled  against 
some  one  in  his  search.  "  Who  is  it  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Hold  on  ;  I  don't  know,  I  'm  seeing  stars,"  Standish 
replied  in  a  dazed,  far-off  voice.  He  had  been  thrown 
out  from  the  back  seat  and  was  stunned  for  a  moment. 
Just  then  a  faint  moan  was  heard.  Standish  was  on  his 
feet  and  exclaimed  instantly  : 

"  Harmony,  are  you  hurt  ?  " 


OUTRIDING   THE   STORM.  333 

"  No,  but  do  get  me  out,"  she  said  faintly  ;  "  the  car- 
riage seat  is  on  top  of  me  and  I  cannot  move."  There 
was  a  sob  of  fright  in  her  voice,  and  in  a  trice  the  two 
men  had  her,  weak  and  trembling,  on  her  feet  in  the 
dark  road. 

"  Where  is  father  ? "  she  asked  with  her  first  free 
breath. 

"  I  'm  over  here  in  a  bank  of  nettles,  a  bit  bruised,  but 
don't  mind  me,"  responded  the  Captain  dolefully.  Then 
Dick  said  again,  as  he  put  out  his  hand  for  his  cousin, 
who  winced  when  he  touched  her  : 

"  Robin,  you  are  hurt." 

"  No,  Dick,  not  much  ;  look  to  the  others  ;  the  horses 
seem  to  be  struggling,  shall  I  go  to  their  heads  ? "  she 
asked.  But  Dick  had  hurried  forward.  He  called  back  : 

"  Standish,  feel  about  and  try  if  you  can  find  the 
lantern."  As  the  wagon  had  fallen  upon  its  side  it  was 
comparatively  easy,  by  the  aid  of  a  lighted  match,  to  find 
the  place  where  it  was  fastened. 

"  Here  's  the  lantern,  and  the  glass  even  is  not  smashed." 
He  quickly  lighted  it.  Just  then  the  moan  again  fell 
upon  their  ears,  and  Robin  called  out,  in  sudden  mem- 
ory, with  fear  in  her  voice  : 

"  Where  is  Jared  ?  " 

"  That 's  so,  where  is  Comly  ?  "  said  Standish. 

"  Comly,  are  you  hurt  ?  where  are  you  ? "  anxiously 
called  Dick  ;  but  there  was  no  response.  The  lantern 
was  quickly  flashed  into  the  wagon,  but  Jared  was 


334  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

not  there,  and  a  mighty  fear  rose  in  all  their  hearts. 
Captain  Esten  had  crawled  out  of  the  bed  of  nettles 
which  had  received  him  when  he  was  thrown  from  the 
front  seat.  He  was  scratched  and  bruised,  but  he  was 
on  his  feet,  and  spoke  up  with  a  groan  : 

"  I  am  afraid  Jared  was  thrown  under  the  horses." 

There  was  just  an  instant  of  horror  at  this  suggestion, 
then  without  a  word  they  turned  to  the  poor  creatures 
which  seemed  to  be  an  inextricable  mass  of  legs  and 
harness.  One  of  the  leaders  alone  was  standing,  half  up 
and  half  down  the  bank.  Standish  whipped  out  his 
knife  and  was  about  to  cut  him  loose. 

"  Hold  on,  Standish,  don't  cut  recklessly  ;  we  shall 
have  to  get  home  to-night  when  this  is  all  over,"  said 
Dick  warningly. 

In  a  moment  both  leaders  were  released  unhurt.  It 
was  found  also  that  a  third  horse  was  unhurt.  He  too 
was  soon  on  his  feet,  but  the  fourth  could  not  move,  and 
from  time  to  time  moaned  pitifully.  There  was  no  sign 
of  Jared,  and  it  was  a  relief  to  all  not  to  come  upon  him 
lying  crushed  under  the  weight  of  the  horses.  Dick 
looked  critically  at  the  injured  horse  and  said  : 

"  Poor  fellow,  he  is  hopeless,  his  leg  is  crushed,  he  will 
have  to  be  shot  ;  but  where  can  Comly  be  ?  he  is  not 
under  the  horses." 

"  He  must  have  been  thrown  further  off,  perhaps  down 
the  bank,"  some  one  said. 

Then  they  all  made  a  careful  search  of  every  inch 
of  ground.  All  down  the  bank  they  went,  peering  into 


OUTRIDING   THE   STORM.  335 

clumps  of  bushes,  calling  his  name  up  and  down  from 
the  lower  to  the  upper  road  ;  not  an  inch  of  ground  but 
was  carefully  gone  over,  until  it  became  certain  that 
he  was  nowhere  very  near.  The  men  put  their  hands  to 
their  lips  and  shouted  again  and  again  until  the  woods 
rang  with  "  Comly  !  "  "  Comly  !  "  echoed  by  the  fainter 
cry  of  Robin's  "  Jared  !  "  "  Jared  !  "  but  not  a  sound 
came  in  response.  After  nearly  an  hour  had  been  spent 
in  fruitless  search  the  Captain  said  : 

"  It  is  most  unaccountable.  He  could  not  have  been 
thrown  much  further  than  I,  we  both  plunged  together. 

He  must  be  somewhere  here,  —unless "and  here 

the  Captain  paused.  They  all  kept  strangely  silent  for 
a  moment,  then  the  Captain  said  :  "  I  think  we  had 
better  make  a  move  towards  righting  the  wagon  and  get- 
ting the  girls  home  ;  they  are  used  up." 

"  But  what  is  to  be  done  about  Jared  ?  "  Robin  asked. 
There  was  a  nameless  horror  in  her  mind  which  she 
wanted  to  shut  out.  She  tried  to  believe  that  Jared  was 
somewhere  near,  hurt,  and  in  need  of  aid.  The  three 
men  glanced  at  each  other  in  the  dim  light  of  the  lantern, 
and  Robin  knew  a  doubt  had  forced  itself  into  their 
minds. 

"  Come,  said  Dick,  "  we  must  try  to  put  the  wagon  on 
its  wheels  and  put  the  horses  to  it  in  some  way  and  go 
on.  We  will  leave  the  ladies  at  Ivanwold  and  then  come 
back  with  whatever  men  we  can  muster  and  make  a 
thorough  search  for  Comly ;  of  course,"  continued  he, 
slowly  and  not  looking  at  any  of  them  as  they  huddled 


336  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

together  in  the  flickering  light,  "  if  he  is  lying  anywhere 
in  the  woods  hurt  we  shall  find  him." 

"  But  how  can  it  be  possible  for  him  to  be  hurt  and  we 
not  have  found  him  already  ?  "  asked  Standish. 

"You  see,"  said  Robin,  hesitatingly  and  feeling  that 
she  must  speak,  "  he  might  be  hurt  and  yet  be  a  good 
way  out  of  the  radius  of  our  search,  for  he  would  be 
necessarily  chagrined  at  upsetting  us,  and  it  has  always 
been  his  way  to  go  off  by  himself  when  any  thing  happens 
which  he  has  been  concerned  in.  I  have  known  him  to 
do  so  before." 

The  three  men  spoke  apart  in  an  undertone  for  a 
moment,  then  silently  and  with  as  much  quickness  as  was 
possible  they  began  to  lift  the  wagon.  Harmony  held 
the  lantern  aloft,  first  with  one  arm,  then  with  the  other, 
Robin  making  no  effort  to  relieve  her,  but  standing  aloof. 
Fortunately  the  wagon  was  little  hurt  and  was  soon  stand- 
ing in  the  road  as  if  it  had  never  been  lying  on  its  side. 
Then  the  horses  were  harnessed  to  it  after  a  fashion,  with 
a  good  many  makeshifts  and  a  deal  of  tying  together  of 
the  harness.  When  at  last  all  was  ready,  the  Captain 
climbed  stiffly  to  his  seat  as  before,  Standish  took  the 
place  Jared  had  had,  the  girls  were  placed  together  be- 
hind, and  Dick  remained  in  the  road  with  the  lantern  in 
his  hand. 

"  Go  on,  Standish,"  he  said. 

"  But,  Mr.  Elgar,  are  you  not  going  with  us  ;  surely  you 
are  not  going  to  stay  in  the  woods  ? "  exclaimed  Harmony. 


OUTRIDING   THE   STORM.  337 

"  I  shall  be  with  you  in  a  moment,  Miss  Harmony." 

Standish  drove  a  distance,  until  the  light  of  the  lantern 
was  lost  ;  then  there  rang  through  the  night  a  quick 
succession  of  shots  ;  there  was  a  start  of  fright  from 
Harmony,  but  the  others  were  all  still.  They  knew  that 
Dick  had  remained  behind  to  put  the  crippled,  moaning 
horse  out  of  misery.  Standish  luckily  had  a  revolver 
with  him  which  Dick  had  borrowed  for  the  purpose.  He 
soon  came  forward  and  handed  the  lantern  to  the  Captain. 
Standish  gave  up  his  place  and  went  behind  ;  Dick  took 
the  reins  and  they  began  their  homeward  way.  It  was  a 
slow  drive  ;  the  harness  would  not  bear  much  strain,  and 
one  of  the  horses  developed  a  lameness.  The  whole  party 
was  absolutely  silent.  Harmony  slipped  her  hand  into 
Robin's,  but  she  could  not  see  the  look  of  pain  that  was 
continually  on  Robin's  face  ;  and  the  rattle  of  the  wheels 
drowned  the  quick,  painfully-drawn  breaths  that  rose  in 
gasps  every  little  while  to  her  lips.  Once  when  there  was 
an  unusual  jolt  Dick  turned  and  asked  anxiously  : 

"  Did  any  one  groan  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  hear  any  one,"  Robin  quickly  answered  ; 
then  silence  again  fell  among  them.  Each  was  going 
over  the  terrible  experiences  of  the  evening  and  it  was 
too  recent,  too  confused  to  talk  about.  They  all  had  a 
feeling  that  perhaps  they  were  closely  treading  upon  the 
borders  of  tragedy.  Certainly  there  was  mystery  some- 
where, and  if  a  tree  rustled  by  the  roadside  each  eye 

tried  to  pierce  the  darkness,  each  ear  was  strained  to 
22 


338  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

catch  a  known  voice  ;  no  matter  how  curt  or  savage  it 
might  sound  it  would  be  welcome  now.  But  no  one 
emerged  from  the  trees,  no  voice  was  heard.  There  was 
ringing  through  Robin's  mind  one  refrain  :  "  Deeds  that 
make  a  man  wander  over  God's  earth,  an  alien,  an  out- 
cast." What  had  been  in  Jared's  heart  when  he  was 
driving  so  recklessly  ?  Had  he  meant  to  be  deaf  to  Dick's 
warnings  ?  Had  there  been  a  purpose  in  the  overthrow 
of  the  wagon  ?  "  No,"  she  cried  to  herself,  "  Jared  was 
reckless  in  his  pain,  he  was  really  oblivious  of  the  danger, 
there  was  no  murder  in  his  heart."  But  then,  "where  is 
he?  was  he  killed  in  the  fall,  and  hurled  under  some 
dark  tree  or  into  some  bush  which  escaped  our  anxious 
eyes  ?  or  did  he  crawl  away  after  the  crash,  to  make 
away  with  himself  in  the  depths  of  the  wood  ? "  These 
terrible,  tormenting  thoughts,  together  with  a  strange 
numbness  which  was  creeping  over  her,  made  every  thing 
a  confusion.  She  dimly  heard  some  one  say  : 

"  We  are  out  of  that  horrible  county  at  last,  and  only 
two  miles  from  Ivanwold."  She  had  little  memory  of 
the  rest  of  the  way,  but  at  last  they  stopped,  a  door 
opened,  a  stream  of  light  flooded  across  a  porch,  there 
was  much  running  to  and  fro,  some  one  lifted  her  to  the 
porch,  put  her  on  her  feet,  and  she  walked  into  a  brightly- 
lighted  hall,  where  there  seemed  to  be  a  great  many  peo- 
ple whom  she  saw  dimly,  as  through  a  veil.  Some  one 
exclaimed  : 

"  Robin  is  hurt,  she  is  ill ;  quick  !  " 


OUTRIDING  THE  STORM.  339 

She  remembered  saying  mechanically  • 

"  Yes,  my  arm  was  broken  in  the  fall." 

Some  one  caught  her  in  his  arms  ;  was  it  Standish,  or 
the  Captain,  or  her  cousin  ?  She  did  not  know.  It  was 
Dick. 

"  My  poor  cousin,  it  was  your  moan  I  heard  in  the 
carriage,  though  you  were  so  brave,"  he  said  tenderly  as 
he  lifted  her  and  placed  her  on  the  sofa  as  though  she 
were  a  child  ;  and  not  one  in  the  room  but  guessed  his 
secret. 

When  the  wagon  had  driven  up  to  the  door  at  Ivan- 
wold,  although  it  was  nearly  midnight,  Deborah  had  not 
gone  to  bed.  The  storm  which  had  been  gathering  wor- 
ried her  ;  she  was  uneasy  for  the  party  that  was  travel- 
ling over  the  rough,  unfamiliar  road  in  the  face  of  such 
wind  and  lightning.  When  she  heard  the  wheels  she 
opened  the  door,  almost  before  they  stopped.  She  knew 
instantly  that  something  had  happened,  for  each  face  had 
a  tale  written  upon  it.  After  Robin  had  been  brought 
out  of  the  faintness  which  had  seized  upon  her,  Deborah 
roused  the  whole  household.  Servants  and  hands  were 
hastily  summoned.  One  of  the  men  was  sent  to  bring  • 
the  doctor,  and  the  others  Dick  ordered  to  make  ready 
to  return  with  him  to  the  scene  of  the  overthrow. 

"  How  many  lanterns  can  be  mustered  ? "  he  asked. 

"We  Ve  only  two,  Dick,"  Deborah  said. 

"Well,  with  the  lantern  we  had  with  us  we  '11  have 
three.  As  I  go  through  Fenny  Drayton  I  will  wake  up 


34O  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

some  one  at  the  store  and  borrow  some  more.  Captain, 
you  are  not  to  go,  you  look  used  up." 

"  Nonsense  ;  Dick  Elgar,  if  you  think  I  'm  going  to 
stay  behind  just  because  of  that  spill,  you  are  much  mis- 
taken. Have  you  any  liquor  ?  " 

Dick  produced  decanters  and  glasses  and  each  of  the 
men  took  a  stiff  drink.  Two  fresh  horses  were  put  to 
the  wagon.  Four  of  the  negroes  of  the  place  were  to  go 
along,  mounted  on  the  work-horses.  As  they  were 
ready  to  start  Dick  went  back  for  a  moment  to  his  cousin. 
She  had  recovered  entirely  from  the  faintness  and  was 
pacing  to  and  fro,  too  distraught  with  pain  to  be  able  to 
wait  calmly  the  coming  of  the  doctor.  Dick  walked  up 
and  down  by  her  side.  He  wondered  to  himself  if  there 
were  any  end  to  the  pluck  and  endurance  this  woman 
possessed. 

"  Are  you  in  terrible  pain,  Robin  ?  " 

"Yes,  Dick." 

"  I  wish  I  could  be  here  when  the  arm  is  set.  To  think 
that  you  of  all  people  should  be  hurt,  while  I,  of  course, 
must  needs  light  on  my  feet  without  a  scratch." 

"  Never  mind  me,  Dick  ;  only  be  sure  to  search  care- 
fully for  Jared.  The  thoughts  in  my  mind  are  horri- 
ble." 

"  Tell  me,  Robin,  do  you  really  think  he  is  anywhere  in 
the  woods  at  this  time  ? " 

"Dick,  Jared  was  in  a  peculiarly  reckless  mood  to- 
night ;  it  was  the  mood  that  sometimes  leads  to  suicide." 


OUTRIDING   THE   STORM.  34! 

Robin  looked  at  Dick  gravely,  then  she  continued  :  "  He 
may  have  been  badly  hurt  and  may  have  dragged  himself 
out  of  our  reach.  He  is  very  strange  sometimes,  and  I 
have  grave  fears  about  him." 

Dick  gazed  at  her  intently.  He  knew  so  well  that  she 
was  tormenting  herself,  that  she  was  holding  herself  re- 
sponsible for  Jared's  strange  disappearance  ;  and  perhaps, 
woman-like  in  her  fears  for  his  safety,  in  her  pity  for 
him,  she  was  nearer  than  she  knew  to  the  feeling  which 
pity  is  akin  to.  He  said  quietly  : 

"We  will  make  thorough  search  for  him,  but  it  will  be 
in  vain  I  think.  I  do  not  share  your  fears."  He  did  not 
say  that  his  suspicions  were  that  Jared  had  slipped  away 
through  the  woods  in  the  darkness  of  the  night  never  to 
return.  A  stern  look  settled  on  his  face,  as  he  walked  in 
silence  for  a  moment  longer  at  his  cousin's  side.  Then 
the  Captain  called  to  him  that  they  were  waiting  for  him, 
and  reluctantly  he  left  her,  a  prey  to  the  torturing  pain 
of  her  arm  and  the  not  less  torturing  thoughts  of  Jared's 
fate. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A    NIGHT    AT    IVANWOLD. 

'T'HE  hours  which  followed  the  departure  of  the  search 
party  dragged  slowly  for  the  women  who  stayed 
behind.  Deborah  and  Harmony  hovered  about  Robin 
and  were  in  deep  distress  to  witness  the  pain,  the  evi- 
dence of  which  it  was  beyond  the  girl  to  suppress.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  doctor  would  never  come.  Deborah 
went  to  the  porch  every  now  and  then  to  listen  for  the 
sound  of  wheels.  She  had  long  ago  cut  away  the  sleeve 
from  the  broken  arm  and  put  upon  Robin  something 
cool  and  flowing.  There  was  finally  nothing  to  dp  but 
await  the  doctor's  coming  with  what  patience  they  could 
command.  Harmony  had  told  her  every  circumstance 
of  the  overturn,  from  the  beginning  of  Jared's  reckless 
driving  down  to  the  strange  fact  that  they  could  not  find 
him  afterwards. 

"  What  do  you  suppose  it  means,  Miss  Deb  ? " 
"  I  do  not  know.     I  feel  certain  that  the  overturn  was 
an  accident.     I  wish  I  felt  as  certain  that  Jared  would 
be  brought  back  to-night." 

342 


A   NIGHT   AT   IVANWOLD.  343 

Robin  volunteered  no  word.  She  paced  back  and 
forth,  when  the  pain  was  unendurable,  with  Jared's  face 
staring  from  every  corner  of  the  room  ;  she  felt  with  a 
shudder  that  she  was  the  direct  cause  of  the  evening's 
catastrophe,  that  but  for  the  conversation  in  the  tower 
window  all  would  have  been  well.  But  how  else,  she 
asked  herself,  could  she  have  answered  him  ?  how  could 
she  hold  herself  responsible  for  his  fierce  mood  and  its 
consequences  ?  Her  mind  ran  back  over  the  months  he 
had  been  at  Airlie.  She  remembered  his  sullen  and 
often  violent  tempers  over  any  thing  that  went  wrong, 
and  how  he  had  sometimes  recklessly  left  the  house  and 
gone  off,  no  one  knew  where,  when  some  special  thing 
had  disturbed  or  angered  him.  At  last  Deborah  said  : 

"  Here  's  the  doctor,  I  see  his  gig-lamps."  She  came 
in  from  the  porch  where  she  had  been  watching,  went  to 
a  closet  near  by,  drew  from  it  various  bundles  of  linen 
which  she  thought  might  be  needed,  and  put  them  where 
they  would  be  handy.  Then  she  said  : 

"  Harmony,  I  do  not  think  thee  is  fit  to  stay  here  with 
Robin  after  all  this  excitement  ;  thee  looks  ill  thyself, 
child.  Do  thee  go  up  to  my  room  till  it  is  over." 

"  No,  no,  Miss  Deb.  I  '11  not  make  any  bother,  and 
I  may  be  useful." 

The  setting  of  broken  bones  is  never  a  painless  opera- 
tion under  the  best  of  circumstances,  but  when  hours 
have  elapsed  between  the  breaking  and  the  setting  then 
the  operation  is  often  an  agony.  Such  it  proved  to 


344  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

Robin  ;  she  set  her  teeth  together  and  tried  hard  to 
make  no  moan,  but  her  face  was  drawn  and  pale.  Away 
down  in  her  heart,  unguessed  by  any  one,  was  the  child- 
ish thought  that  she  could  bear  it  better  if  she  could  see 
her  mother's  face  and  hear  her  mother's  gentle  voice. 
Not  for  worlds  would  she  let  any  one  know  how  near  she 
was  to  breaking  down.  At  last  it  was  over.  Deborah 
and  Harmony  helped  to  lay  her  in  the  old,  high-posted 
bed  where  as  a  child  she  had  had  dreams  of  breaking  a 
colt  like  her  Cousin  Dick.  She  felt  thankful  that  she  had 
told  her  mother  when  they  started  off  in  the  afternoon 
that  she  should  stay  with  Harmony  that  night.  She  only 
wished  that  she  could  keep  the  broken  arm  entirely  from 
her,  but  there  was  no  hiding  it  as  she  had  hidden  the 
running  away  of  the  bay  horse.  How  long  ago  every 
thing  seemed  and  how  queer  it  was  to  be  again  sleeping 
at  Ivanwold,  with  Deborah  fussing  about  the  room  and 
Harmony  sitting  at  the  window.  At  last  Deborah  said, 
softly  :' 

"  Come,  Harmony,  thee  must  go  to  bed  now,  it  is  two 
o'clock  and  thee  will  be  ill.  I  cannot  have  two  sick 
people  on  my  hands,  and  I  warrant  thee  '11  be  stiff 
enough  to-morrow.  The  doctor  is  going  to  stay  till  the 
men  come  back,  for  he  might  be  needed  ;  so  thee  must 
go  and  get  some  sleep."  Deborah  did  not  often  use 
"  thee  "  to  any  one  outside  the  community  of  Friends. 
Harmony  noticed  it,  and  felt  it  a  special  mark  of  favor 
and  solicitude. 


A   NIGHT  AT   IVANWOLD.  345 

"  Miss  Deb,  I  wish  you  'd  always  say  '  thee '  to  me, 
it  is  so  pretty ;  I  have  tried  to  have  Robin  do  so  too,  but 
she  says  it  would  not  be  natural.  Somehow  I  always  feel 
an  outsider  in  this  dear  old  neighborhood." 

"  Why,  my  dear  child,  I  will  always  hereafter  say 
'  thee."  We  cannot  let  thee  feel  an  outsider.  But  thee 
is  not  taking  thyself  off  to  bed."  She  gently  led  Harmony 
away  and  left  Robin  in  possession  of  the  half-darkened 
room. 

Deborah  and  the  doctor  sat  and  talked  through  the 
trying  moments  of  waiting,  expecting  every  instant  the 
return  of  the  party.  Deborah  had  a  substantial  lunch 
set  out  upon  the  table  and  kept  the  kettle  boiling,  for  she 
knew  that  when  they  came  back  they  would  be  tired  and 
hungry.  Every  once  in  a  while  she  went  softly  to  the 
room  to  see  that  Robin  was  wanting  for  nothing.  She 
came  back  after  one  of  these  visitations  saying  : 

"  Robin  has  fever  and  is  talking  ;  can't  thee  give  her 
something,  doctor  ? "  They  proceeded  to  the  room. 
Robin  was  tossing  about  and  talking  continually.  The 
doctor  mixed  something  quickly  in  a  glass  and 
approached  her.  She  tried  to  push  away  the  glass, 
muttering  : 

"  No,  Dick,  we  cannot  take  it ;  mother  and  I  are  too 
proud."  Then  there  were  broken,  disjointed  sentences, 
in  which  could  be  distinguished  "  mortgage,"  "  pay- 
ment." The  doctor  turned  sharply  to  Deborah  and 
asked  : 


346  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

"  Does  thee  know  whether  Robin  has  had  any  worry 
on  her  mind  lately  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  positively ;  she  never  talks  of  her 
affairs.  There  are  no  money  worries,  save  the  old  ones 
at  Airlie,  that  I  know  of ;  but  it  is  a  heavy  load  for  a 
girl  to  carry,  and  she  works  too  hard."  Then  sinking 
her  voice  she  said  :  "  I  am  sure,  doctor,  that  she  has  had 
trouble  lately  with  Jared  Comly,  and  that  she  has  been 
worried  about  his  conduct." 

There  was  silence,  during  which  the  doctor  watched 
the  flushed  fade  and  counted  the  pulsations.  Deborah 
asked  finally : 

"  Does  thee  think  she  is  going  to  be  ill  ?  " 

"  No,  I  think  not ;  the  excitement  and  fright  of  the 
accident  to-night,  together  with  the  delay  in  setting  the 
broken  arm,  are  sufficient  to  cause  the  fever.  She  will 
be  all  right,  I  trust,  in  the  morning." 

Close  upon  four  o'clock  there  was  a  sound  of  wheels. 
Deborah  opened  the  door  a  second  time  that  night  to 
the  returning  party.  She  peered  anxiously  at  each 
man  as  he  jumped  down  from  the  wagon,  and  when  she 
saw  only  those  who  had  gone  forth,  she  said  to  Dick : 

"  Thee  has  not  found  him  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Dick,  shortly. 

"  What  has  become  of  him  ?  does  thee  think  it  pos- 
sible he  has  made  away  with  himself  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,"  said  Captain  Esten,  "  I  don't  think  he  's  made 
away  with  himself ;  it  is  as  plain  as  possible  that  he  's 
cleared  out." 


A  NIGHT  AT   IVANWOLD.  347 

"What  object  would  he  have  in  clearing  out  ?"  per- 
sisted Deborah. 

"  Hanged  if  I  know  ;  he  was  always  a  queer,  sulky 
devil,"  the  Captain  said  bluntly. 

Standish  did  not  speak,  and  Dick  looked  stern.  All 
three  had  an  air  of  weariness  and  disgust. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Deborah,  "  and  have  something  hot ; 
you  all  look  tired  to  death." 

Dick  asked  as  soon  as  they  were  in  the  dining-room  : 

"  How  is  my  cousin  ?  " 

"  She  stood  the  setting  very  well  ;  it  proves  a  simple 
fracture,  and  the  doctor  thinks  there  will  be  little 
trouble,  but  she  is  very  restless,  and  has  some  fever." 

"  Where  is  she  ? "  asked  Dick,  looking  anxiously 
about,  as  if  he  had  expected  to  see  her  somewhere  near. 

"  Why,  she  *s  been  put  to  bed,  of  course,  in  the  old 
nursery,  where  she  used  to  sleep.  She  has  been  a  bit 
delirious,  and  has  muttered  about  '  mortgages '  and 
'payments.'  " 

This  repetition  of  Robin's  fevered  words  made  Dick's 
face  darken.  He  made  a  quick,  involuntary  movement 
towards  the  door;  then  he  remembered  that  though 
she  was  lying  maimed  and  delirious  under  his  own  roof, 
a  victim  of  Comly's  brutal  driving,  he  could  not  do  any 
thing  ;  he  could  not  be  near  her  even.  Truly,  he  said 
to  himself,  his  experiences  had  come  thick  and  fast  upon 
him  since  his  return  to  America.  But  he  was  host,  and 
he  must  remember  the  comfort  of  the  others.  He. 
turned  to  Deborah  and  said  ; 


348  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

"  I  hope  Miss  Esten  was  none  the  worse  for  the  night's 
adventure,  and  that  she  has  been  made  comfortable  ? " 

"Oh,  yes,  Dick,  Harmony  is  all  right.  As  for  Robin, 
the  doctor  is  with  her,  and  will  stay  till  daylight." 

Reassured,  Dick  turned  to  the  two  men  : 

"  Captain  Esten,  you  and  Standish  had  better  turn  in 
for  several  hours  ;  we  shall  all  feel  the  better  for  sleep,  I 
fancy." 

"We  shall  all  be  rather  a  stiff  lot  to-morrow,"  said 
Standish  ;  "  the  Captain  seems  to  have  the  most  scratches, 
but  I  've  smashed  my  watch  completely,  and  I  'm  hanged 
if  I  don't  believe  I  have  as  bad  an  arm  as  Miss  Elgar." 

Here  Standish  pulled  off  his  coat,  turned  up  his  shirt- 
sleeve, and  revealed  the  sleeve  of  his  undervest  matted  to 
the  arm  in  blood. 

"  Man  alive  !  why  did  n't  you  tell  some  one  ?  Why 
have  you  gone  all  these  hours  with  it  in  such  a  condition  ? 
And  it  is  the  left  arm,  too,  like  Robin's,"  said  Deborah. 

"  Well,  Miss  Deborah,  I  could  n't  show  less  courage 
than  Miss  Elgar,  could  I  ?  Her  injury  is  worse  than 
mine,  for  my  arm  is  only  bruised.  You  see,  she  and  I 
sat  on  the  same  side  of  the  wagon,  and  were  the  first  to 
strike  the  ground,  and  if  you  will  get  me  some  hot  water 
I  '11  try  to  soak  off  this  sleeve." 

"  Standish,  you  must  have  the  doctor  look  at  your 
arm  ;  it  may  be  worse  than  you  think,"  said  Dick. 

The  doctor  soon  had  Standish  in  charge.  The  arm 
proved  to  be  very  badly  bruised,  and  had  to  be  bandaged 


A   NIGHT   AT    IVANWOLD.  349 

almost  as  carefully  as  Robin's.  When  the  doctor  had 
finished,  Deborah  said  : 

"  Has  any  one  else  any  breaks  or  bruises  hidden  away? 
If  not,  I  move  that  the  household  go  to  bed." 

Dick  went  up  with  the  Captain  and  Standish.  They 
stopped  a  few  moments  in  Dick's  sitting-room  to  have  a 
few  words  in  a  low  tone.  Dick  said  : 

"I  don't  like  the  look  of  the  thing  at  all,  but  we  have 
done  all  we  can  in  the  matter." 

"Of  course,"  said  the  Captain.  "It  stands  to  reason 
that  if  Comly  had  been  hurt  we  should  have  found  him  in 
our  first  search.  I  did  n't  think  it  worth  while  even  to  go 
back  again  to  the  place  of  the  overthrow,  and  would  have 
said  so,  but  for  Robin's  suggestion  that  he  might  have 
done  violence  to  himself.  But  there  can  be  no  doubt 
now  that  he  's  slunk  off  through  the  woods  somewhere, 
and  it  is  a  confoundedly  low  thing  to  do.  I  '11  never 
hold  out  my  hand  to  him  again,"  said  the  Captain, 
indignantly.  Clearly,  from  the  faces  of  the  other  two, 
they  echoed  his  vigorous  words. 

It  was  late  the  next  day  before  the  household  assembled. 
When  the  different  guests  who  had  slept  at  Ivanwold 
made  their  appearance,  and  looked  each  other  over,  it 
was  with  silent  thanksgiving  that  things  were  no  worse. 
The  clear  light  of  the  September  morning  had  brought 
out  bruises  and  scratches  innumerable,  and  not  one 
of  them  but  would  bear  some  mark  of  the  night's  ad- 
venture for  many  days.  Standish  had  his  arm  in  a  sling. 


350  GILBERT    ELGAR  S    SON. 

The  Captain's  ruddy  face  was  scratched  and  bruised. 
Harmony  was  stiff  from  head  to  foot,  and  bore  the  mark 
of  the  carriage-seat,  which  had  held  her  as  in  a  vise. 
Dick  alone,  save  for  a  scratch  or  two,  seemed  to  be  the 
one  unscathed  of  the  party.  Robin  was  the  one  upon 
whom  Jared's  recklessness  had  fallen  most  heavily. 
Towards  morning  she  fell  into  a  deep  sleep.  At  day- 
light the  doctor  went.  Deborah  and  Harmony,  as  they 
went  down-stairs  at  different  hours  in  the  morning,  had 
looked  in  upon  her,  and  had  found  her  still  sleeping. 

When  breakfast  was  nearly  over,  and  while  every  one 
was  going  over  the  scene  of  the  night  before  >and  all 
trying  to  talk  at  once,  the  door  slowly  opened  and  Robin 
came  languidly  into  the  room.  It  was  evident  that  she 
could  scarcely  stand.  Each  man  sprang  to  his  feet  to 
offer  assistance.  She  smiled  faintly  and  said  : 

"  I  am  not  so  badly  off  as  to  need  all  of  you,"  and  she 
sank  into  an  arm-chair.  Her  eyes  took  in  the  group 
quickly.  She  turned  to  Dick  and  said  : 

"  Thee  did  not  find  him  ?  " 

"  No,  dear  cousin,  we  made  a  search  of  miles,  but  in 
vain,"  Dick  gently  replied.  Then  Robin  looked  again 
at  the  others.  She  noticed  the  bruises,  and  said  quickly 
to  Standish  : 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Standish,  I  am  so  sorry  you  have  your  arm 
in  a  sling  ;  we  are  twins  in  misery."  She  glanced  at  her 
own  arm  resting  in  its  splint. 

"  Mine  is  only  a  bruise,  Miss  Robin,  but  you  ought  not 
to  have  come  down." 


A   NIGHT   AT   IVANWOLD.  351 

"  No,  indeed,  thee  ought  not,"  said  Deborah,  quickly. 

"  Who  dressed  thee,  and  where  did  thee  get  that  rig 
thee  has  on  ? " 

"  Why,  cousin,  I  called  to  the  housemaid  who  was  in 
the  passage — she  helped  me  ;  but  I  could  not  wear  my 
own  gown,  so  she  hunted  out  this  old  flowered  thing 
from  the  press.  I  was  so  anxious  to  know  if  Jared  had 
been  found,  but  I  confess  I  am  very  miserable  and  weak." 

Dick  brought  a  cup  of  coffee  to  her  chair.  He  held 
the  saucer  while  she  took  the  cup  with  her  one  hand. 
She  looked  up  at  him,  trying  to  smile  lightly  and 
cheerfully. 

"  Dick,  it  does  not  taste  quite  so  good  as  the  cup  thee 
held  for  me  at  the  hunt." 

Dick  looked  down  at  her  and  did  not  trust  himself  to 
speak.  He  felt  that  it  would  not  be  well  for  Comly  to 
come  in  his  way  very  soon.  Deborah  came  to  Robin's 
side  and  laid  her  hand  on  her  forehead,  saying  : 

"  Thee  still  has  fever,  thee  must  go  back  to  bed  at 
once  ;  I  never  dreamed  of  thee  coming  down-stairs 
to-day." 

"  Thee  is  very  good,  dear  Deborah,  but  I  am  going 
home  immediately." 

"Thee  will  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  she  replied, 
authoritatively. 

"  I  think,  Robin,"  said  the  Captain,  "  you  had  better 
stay  here  for  a  day  or  two,  or  at  least  until  you  are  better 
able  to  stand  a  ride  of  five  miles." 

Robin  turned  her  eyes  appealingly  to  Dick.     She  was 


352  GILBERT   ELGAR  S   SON. 

too  weak  and  weary  in  mind  and  body  to  argue  or  per- 
suade. Dick  saw  the  look  in  her  eyes,  and  said  quietly, 
in  a  tone  of  decision  : 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  wish,  Robin,  you  shall  go  home. 
I  will  take  you  in  the  brougham."  She  gave  him  a 
grateful  glance. 

"  But,  Dick,  thee  has  no  business  to  encourage  her  in 
any  thing  so  foolish  as  to  jolt  over  that  road,  weak  and 
spent  as  she  is  with  fever  and  a  broken  arm." 

"  There  shall  be  no  jolting,  Deborah,  and  it  will  be  no 
worse  for  her  than  to  stay  here  against  her  wishes,"  replied 
he,  firmly.  Then  he  rang  and  ordered  the  carriage  to  be 
brought  round. 

Meantime  the  Captain  went  out  to  see  in  what  condition 
the  wagon  was.  He  came  back  and  said  : 

"  Come,  daughter,  get  on  your  things,  it  is  after  eleven 
o'clock  and  we  must  be  getting  home.  Elgar,  if  you  hear 
any  thing  of  Comly  let  us  know.  Of  course  by  this 
time  the  news  is  probably  all  over  the  neighborhood. 
Should  n't  wonder  if  we  are  thought  to  have  made  away 
with  him.  It  will  be  more  of  a  sensation  than  any  thing 
I  ever  heard  of  before  in  this  community.  I  look  as  if 
I  'd  been  in  a  fight,"  he  wound  up  grimly,  as  he  eyed 
himself  in  the  mirror.  Then  turning  to  Robin  he  said  : 
"  Well,  my  child,  take  care  of  yourself  ;  keep  quiet  and 
don't  fret  over  Jared's  disappearance,  he  's  not  worth  it. 
Some  of  us  will  be  over  at  Airlie  to-night  to  see  how  you 
are."  And  with  affectionate  good-byes  Harmony  and 
her  father  started  off  for  home. 


A   NIGHT   AT   IVANWOLD.  353 

In  a  short  time  the  brougham  was  at  the  door.  Robin 
was  carefully  placed  in  it,  Deborah  protesting  with  every 
breath,  but  to  no  purpose.  Dick  stepped  in  and  took  his 
place  at  her  side,  and  with  instructions  to  the  coachman 
to  drive  carefully  they  set  out  for  Airlie. 
23  % 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

SERIOUS     CONSEQUENCES. 

T^HE  first  part  of  the  drive  from  Ivanwold  was  silent. 
Robin  leaned  back  in  the  corner  of  the  car- 
riage, pale  and  languid.  She  was  still  going  wearily  over 
the  events  of  the  night  before,  from  the  time  of  her  talk 
in  the  tower  window  to  the  time  of  the  overthrow.  Dick 
gazed  out  of  the  window  with  a  grave  expression  on  his 
face.  He  too  was  thinking  of  the  night  before  and  of 
the  disappearance  of  Jared  Comly.  He  was  wondering 
if  he  could  have  made  a  mistake,  if  it  were  possible  his 
cousin  cared  for  Comly  after  all,  or  was  her  concern  only 
because  she  fancied  herself  to  blame  for  the  reckless 
driving  and  subsequent  disaster  ?  He  bit  the  end  of  his 
moustache  abstractedly,  until  Robin  felt  that  she  could 
bear  the  silence  no  longer.  She  was  about  to  rouse  her- 
self and  speak,  when  Dick  turned  towards  her  and  said  : 

"  I  heard  you  say  last  night  that  Comly  has  been  in  the 
habit  of  giving  way. to  moods  and  tempers  and  staying 
away  when  he  is  in  one  of  them  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  true,  Dick,"  she  said  reluctantly  ;  then  after 
a  moment's  silence  she  asked  : 

354 


SERIOUS  CONSEQUENCES.  355 

"  What  does  thee  think  of  his  disappearance  ? " 

"  Well,  cousin,"  he  said,  turning  sideways  to  look  more 
fully  at  her,  "  I  think  he  was  in  a  reckless,  desperate 
mood,  and  when  he  finally  overturned  us  he  slunk 
away." 

"  Does  thee  mean  thee  thinks  he  deliberately  over- 
turned us  ?  "  she  asked  in  a  low  tone. 

"  Well,"  he  said  sternly,  "  it  looks  like  it,  for  it  was 
after  Captain  Esten's  and  my  united  remonstrances.  If 
I  had  seen  the  danger  a  moment  earlier  I  should  have 
wrenched  the  reins  out  of  his  hands,  but  it  was  too  late." 

'  I  am  glad  thee  did  not,  Dick,  for  Jared  would 
have  struck  thee,  and  there  might  have  been  a  worse 
mishap  than  to  be  overturned."  Dick  smiled  meaningly 
and  said  emphatically  : 

"He  had  better  not  come  in  my  way." 

"  I  do  not  think  he  will  ever  be  seen  in  this  neighbor- 
hood again,"  she  said  pityingly  ;  and  the  tears  sprang  to 
her  eyes  as  she  remembered  the  hopeless  look  in  Jared's 
face  when  he  left  her  in  the  tower  window.  Dick  saw 
the  tears  and  the  pity  in  her  face.  He  turned  away 
abruptly  and  stared  out  of  the  window  again  in  silence. 
In  a  moment  Robin  went  on  : 

"  In  justice  to  Jared  I  must  say  that  I  do  not  believe 
for  a  moment  he  had  any  intention  of  overturning  us. 
He  was,  as  thee  says,  reckless.  He  did  not  believe  there 
was  danger,  but  afterwards  it  was  much  in  keeping  with 
what  I  have  known  of  him  for  months  past  to  slip  away 


356  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

in  the  dark  in  bitter  silence,  not  caring  that  such  an  action 
would  be  construed  as  cowardly." 

"  It  was  dastardly  in  him,"  muttered  Dick.  Robin 
continued  : 

"  We  have  had  some  very  unhappy  days  over  Jared  at 
Airlie  in  consequence  of  his  moods,  but  somehow  he  has 
always  been  unhappy  and  unfortunate.  He  never  had  a 
home,  and  mother  and  I  have  borne  with  him  out  of 
pity.  I  only  say  this  to  thee,  Dick,  that  thee  may  under- 
stand why  I  view  his  strange  behavior  more  leniently 
than  thee  does.  I  would  never  speak  of  his  shortcomings 
to  any  one  else."  She  said  this  frankly  not  guessing 
what  relief  her  words  were  to  her  companion. 

"  I  understand  your  feeling  perhaps  more  fully  than 
you  think,  Robin,  and  I  do  you  honor  for  it,"  Dick  said, 
bending  his  eyes  upon  her. 

They  were  nearly  at  Airlie  and  Robin  began  to  dread 
the  effect  the  whole  story  would  have  upon  her  mother  ; 
she  hoped  no  careless  rumor  had  yet  reached  her.  As 
they  drove  up  the  lane  she  saw  Dorothea  sitting  placidly 
on  the  porch.  Dick  helped  Robin  to  alight,  and  the  girl 
in  her  old-fashioned,  flowered  gown,  with  a  light  shawl  of 
Deborah's  thrown  over  her  shoulders  and  covering  her 
maimed  arm,  presented  a  curious  spectacle  to  her  mother's 
eyes.  As  she  came  up  the  steps  Dorothea  rose  trem- 
blingly and  said  : 

"  Something  has  happened,  thee  is  hurt." 

Then,  in  a  few  halting  words,  Robin  told  the  story  of 


SERIOUS  CONSEQUENCES.  357 

the  expedition  to  Fool's*  Manor,  the  disaster  that  had 
overtaken  them,  and  finally  of  the  disappearance  of  Jared. 
Dorothea  followed  each  step  of  the  story  with  an  anxious 
face,  and  when  the  culmination  was  reached  in  the 
disappearance,  a  distressed  and  horrified  look  crept  into 
her  eyes.  She  possessed  the  strong  characteristic  of 
the  Friends  of  repressing  emotion  and  bearing  things 
quietly,  so  she  listened  silently  without  any  interruptions. 
After  both  Dick  and  Robin  had  given  briefly  the  princi- 
pal points,  Dorothea  asked  : 

"What  occasioned  Jared's  reckless  mood?"  There 
was  silence.  Robin  seemed  suddenly  to  have  come  to 
the  end  of  her  strength.  She  made  no  reply  and  leaned 
exhaustedly  back  in  a  chair.  Dick  quietly  interposed  : 

"  Aunt  Dorothy,  Robin  is  not  equal  to  any  thing  more 
at  present  ;  she  ought  to  go  to  her  room  and  be  put  to 
bed,  she  is  already  ill.  I  sent  word  to  the  doctor  to 
come  here  instead  of  going  to  Ivanwold  again,  and  he 
will  be  here  soon.  I  shall  send  the  carriage  home, 
for  of  course  I  will  remain  here." 

"  Oh,  Richard,  I  am  so  glad  ;  for  with  Robin  crippled, 
and  Jared  gone  in  this  dreadful  way  we  are  very  help- 
less." 

"  Mother,  it  won't  be  in  the  least  necessary  for  Dick  to 
stay  ;  I  shall  be  about  to-morrow  as  usual." 

"  My  cousin,"  said  Dick,  "  I  am  not  going  to  presume 
to  interfere  or  to  dictate  in  any  way,  but  I  am  going  to 
remain  here  for  the  present," 


358  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

There  was  a  cool  tone  of  decision  in  his  voice  which 
brooked  no  dissent.  Robin  could  not  enter  upon  any 
further  remonstrance,  and  in  a  few  moments,  with  her 
mother  and  Joppa,  she  had  gone  slowly  to  her  room,  to 
submit  to  their  ministrations.  Dick  wrote  a  line  to 
Deborah,  asking  her  to  make  his  excuses  to  Standish, 
saying  he  should  not  return  to  Ivanwold  that  night,  and 
bidding  her  send  up  a  man  with  his  things  ;  then  sug- 
gesting as  an  after-thought  that  Standish  should  ride  up 
to  Airlie  the  following  day.  This  despatched,  Dick  turned 
towards  the  stables.  He  had  a  fancy  for  seeing  what 
horses  were  there,  for  he  had  a  conviction  that  Comly's 
would  not  be  among  them.  At  the  stable-door  he  en- 
countered Kane,  who  looked  worried  and  miserable.  As 
soon  as  he  saw  Dick  he  lowered  his  voice  mysteriously 
and  said  : 

;<  'Deed,  Mr.  Dick,  somethin'  moughty  quare  's  happen*. 
I  done  lock  the  stable  las'  night,  an'  this  mornin'  it  was 
wide  open  an'  Mr.  Jared's  horse  gone." 

"  Did  you  hear  any  noise  in  the  night,  Kane  ?  " 

"No,  sir." 

Dick  considered  for  a  moment.  He  knew  that  Jared's 
disappearance  was  now  settled  beyond  all  doubt,  that  it 
would  be  known  through  the  whole  neighborhood  before 
night,  and  that  he  might  as  well  give  Kane  a  few  facts  in 
the  case.  He  said  simply  : 

"  Mr.  Jared  came  and  got  his  horse  himself  ;  he  has 
gone  away  for  a  time,  And,  by  the  way,  Kane,  we  had 


SERIOUS   CONSEQUENCES.  3$9 

an  accident  last  night ;  we  drove  off  the  pike  in  the  dark 
and  had  a  bad  spill.  Miss  Robin  had  her  arm  broken  ;  I 
have  just  brought  her  home."  Kane  looked  at  Dick  in 
open-mouthed  astonishment  for  a  moment,  then  there 
crept  over  his  face  a  queer,  puzzled  look  as  if  he  were 
trying  to  trace  a  connection  between  the  words  and  the 
disappearance  of  the  horse.  Dick  continued  :  "  I  'm 
going  to  stop  a  day  or  two  at  Airlie,  until  Miss  Robin 
feels  better  ;  so  if  there  is  any  thing  to  be  seen  to  or  to 
be  done,  come  to  me,  Kane,  with  it." 

"  That  I  will,  Mr.  Dick,  I  "s  right  glad  to  have  some 
one  b'longin'  to  us  come  here  an'  stay ;  'deed  Miss 
Rob's  been  nigh  worried  sick  o'  late." 

"  How  so,  Kane  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  's  goin'  to  speak  out  plain,  Mr.  Dick.  You 
see,  Mr.  Jared  's  been  kin'  o'  sour  an"  rough-like  for  one 
thing,  an'  I  can  see  Miss  Rob's  had  a  time  to  hoi'  in  her 
feelin's  'bout  it.  Then,  you  see,  we  's  deep  in  debt,  an' 
't  ain'  right  for  Miss  Rob  to  kill  herself  workin'  an'  wor- 
ryin'.  I  ain' been  much  good  sence  the  oxen  pa'lysed  me, 
an'  Mr.  Gilbert  lef  things  pretty  bad,  an'  there  wa'n' 
no  one  but  Miss  Rob  to  do  nothin'  ;  an',  Mr.  Dick,  after 
Mr.  Gilbert's  death  you  jes'  ough'  to  seen  her  eyes  shine 
when  I  ask'  her  who  's  to  give  us  han's  they  orders,  an' 
she  said  she  was  goin'  to  work  '  long  side  o'  Bill,  Saunders, 
an'  me,  an'  I  tell  you  she  's  done  it.  But,  Mr.  Dick,  I  can' 
bear  to  see  her  troublin'  her  min'  an'  workin'  so  hard  "  ; 
and  Kane  with  difficulty  kept  the  tears  out  of  his  eyes. 


360  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

Dick  grasped  his  hand  and  shook  it  warmly,  saying  : 
"  Cheer  up,  Kane,  you  and  I  will  stand  by  Miss  Robin 
and  the  old  farm  ;  every  thing  will  come  right  some  day." 
In  the  afternoon  the  doctor  came.  He  had  missed 
Dick's  message,  and  gone  to  Ivanwold,  and,  finding  his 
patient  flown,  had  followed  her,  intending  to  administer 
a  sharp  rebuke  to  her  for  having  taken  matters  into  her 
own  hands.  But  he  found  her  so  restless  and  feverish 
that  he  withheld  the  rebuke,  and  ordered  her  to  bed, 
telling  her  that  if  she  disobeyed  he  would  not  be  an- 
swerable for  the  consequences.  In  truth,  Robin  was 
glad  enough  to  be  shut  in  her  room  away  from  sight  and 
sound.  It  was  the  first  time  since  her  father's  death 
that  she  felt  she  could  take  time  to  be  indisposed  or 
idle,  for  Dick  was  down-stairs  filling  her  place.  He 
would  do  every  thing  necessary  ;  he  would  answer  all 
questions  and  inquiries  about  Jared  ;  he  would  assume 
the  entire  responsibility  ;  and  what  a  relief  it  was  to  her 
to  lie  there  upon  her  bed  in  quiet,  and  to  know  that 
every  thing  was  in  his  hands.  Then  she  thought  of  the 
fall  work  coming  on,  and  all  peace  fled  from  her  mind. 
She  thought  fretfully  that,  with  her  broken  arm,  she 
should  not  be  able  to  do  a  stroke  of  work  on  the  farm  in 
six  weeks  or  two  months,  and  Jared  was  gone  ;  for  even 
should  his  disappearance  be  for  only  a  short  time,  she 
could  never  take  him  back  at  Airlie,  even  though  he 
might  wish  to  come,  which  would  be  unlikely.  How 
would  they  get  through  the  autumn  ?  She  would  have 


SERIOUS   CONSEQUENCES.  361 

to  engage  some  one  temporarily  to  help  with  the  work. 
How  glad  she  was,  for  her  mother's  sake,  that  Cousin 
Dick  was  not  in  Germany.  She  knew  how  unselfishly 
he  would  help  them  through.  She  would  have  a  long 
talk  with  him  in  the  morning,  tell  him  just  how  the 
work  was  planned,  and  ask  him  to  see  to  finding  some 
one  in  Jared's  place.  But  the  next  morning  Robin  was 
ill,  too  ill  to  raise  her  head,  too  ill  to  care  about  the 
work  or  the  farm,  and  her  talk  with  her  cousin  was  not 
held. 

Meantime  the  news  of  Jared's  disappearance  swept 
through  the  neighborhood  like  a  whirlwind.  Nothing 
like  it  had  ever  occurred  before  ;  the  consternation  was 
•great  and  profound.  Second  to  it  in  interest  and  gravity 
was  the  illness  of  Robin  Elgar.  The  details  of  the  ex- 
pedition to  Fool's  Manor  became  public  property,  and 
considerable  was  the  satisfaction  felt  by  many  that  the 
old  superstition  had  been  verified,  that  misfortune  always 
overtook  those  who  were  rash  enough  to  set  foot  within 
the  deserted  old  manor  house.  Airlie  was  besieged  with 
visitors,  anxious  to  inquire  for  the  young  farmer,  and 
also  to  glean  some  particulars  concerning  the  missing 
man.  Dick  took  it  upon  himself  to  interview  the  visi- 
tors. He  met  each  questioner  who  came  to  the  farm 
with  a  brief  but  light  account  of  the  overturn.  He  care- 
fully kept  Jared's  name  as  free  from  blame  as  was  possi- 
ble. Many  of  the  visitors  went  away  convinced  that  it 
had  been  a  very  reckless,  merry  party  that  had  gone  to 


362  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

Fool's  Manor,  and  that  they  had  fallen  off  the  pike 
through  sheer  heedless  jollity,  but  the  mystery  of  Jared's 
disappearance  remained  unsolved.  There  were  not  a  few 
in  the  neighborhood  who  said  that  some  of  the  party 
who  went  to  Fool's  Manor  knew  more  than  they  chose 
to  tell  of  the  night's  occurrence  and  of  Jared's  where- 
abouts, but  when  it  was  known  that  his  horse  had 
disappeared  from  Airlie  in  the  dead  of  night,  it  became 
accepted  that  he  had  stolen  back  silently,  taken  his 
horse,  and  gone,  whither  no  one  knew.  There  was 
some  talk  of  organizing  a  search  party,  but  it  dwindled 
down  to  a  few,  who  half-heartedly  set  about  it.  All 
during  the  autumn  it  was  popular  among  the  young 
people  of  the  neighborhood  to  drive  or  ride  to  the  scene* 
of  the  accident,  but  no  one  had  any  desire  to  explore 
Fool's  Manor,  and  its  reputation  became  even  more 
unsavory  than  before. 

A  few  days  after  Dick  had  installed  himself  at  Airlie, 
Standish  announced  his  departure.  Dick  tried  to  per- 
suade him  to  stay  at  Ivanwold,  but  his  friend  said  that 
he  must  be  looking  after  his  own  affairs,  and  must 
return  to  town.  The  two  men  had  a  long  confidential 
talk.  When  they  parted,  Dick  grasped  Standish's  hand, 
and  said  warmly  : 

"  I  congratulate  you  heartily,  old  man  ;  you  deserve  it." 

"  Thanks,  but  confess  that  you  thought  in  Germany 

and  on  the  steamer  coming  home  that  I  was  in  love  with 

your  cousin,  Miss  Elgar,"  Standish  said,  looking  amused. 


SERIOUS  CONSEQUENCES.  363 

"To  tell  the  truth,  Standish,  I  did  think  so,"  admitted 
Dick. 

They  parted  with  many  good  wishes,  and  intentions  of 
meeting  at  Christmas.  In  a  day  or  two  Standish's  en- 
gagement to  Harmony  was  announced,  and  for  a  brief 
time  Jared's  disappearance  and  Robin's  illness  ceased  to 
be  of  the  first  importance  in  the  neighborhood.  Then 
came  a  few  days  and  nights  when  the  doctor  stayed 
close  at  the  bedside  of  his  patient  at  Airlie ;  when 
Deborah  came  up  from  Ivanwold,  and  went  about 
the  house  on  tip-toe  ;  when  Dorothea  sat  in  the  shaded 
room,  with  an  expression  of  death  on  her  quiet  face  ; 
when  Dick  paced  the  garden  paths,  during  the  long 
hours  of  suspense,  with  anguish  in  his  heart.  Then  the 
burden  was  lifted.  Dick,  in  the  happy  reaction,  threw 
himself  heart  and  soul  into  the  task  of  pushing  the 
autumn  work.  He  felt  that  now  was  his  time,  while  his 
cousin  was  laid  by,  to  get  in  some  of  the  things  he  had 
longed  to  do  for  her.  For  the  next  few  weeks  money 
was  lavishly  spent  in  repairing  and  putting  to  rights 
many  things  which  he  knew  his  cousin  wanted  to  have 
done,  but  which  had  been  impossible  in  the  state  of  her 
finances.  He  engaged  a  couple  of  men  to  help  with  the 
farm-work.  The  ploughing  for  wheat  and  the  sowing 
were  accomplished,  but  Dick  confessed  to  himself  many 
a  time  that  he  was  no  farmer,  his  taste  did  not  lie  in  the 
tillage  of  the  soil,  and  he  wondered  more  and  more  at 
the  ease  with  which  his  cousin  seemed  to  accomplish  the 


364  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

things  which  came  so  hard  to  him.  Wherever  he  went 
upon  the  farm  he  saw  her  care  and  zeal,  though  the 
marks  could  plainly  be  seen  of  the  long  years  of  Gil- 
bert's neglect ;  but  over  and  above  it  were  evidences  of 
a  struggle  to  overcome  that  neglect.  In  every  nook  and 
corner  he  saw  his  cousin's  face  :  at  the  dairy,  in  the 
workshop,  in  the  fields,  and  in  every  hour  of  the  day  he 
felt  her  influence  and  presence. 

He  turned  over  her  books  in  the  sitting-room.  It  was 
with  growing  surprise  that  he  saw  what  a  mixture  of  the 
best  she  had  fed  upon.  He  came  upon  a  pile  of  pam- 
phlets and  newspapers  the  margins  of  which  were  closely 
written  upon  in  his  cousin's  handwriting.  All  bore  upon 
prominent  questions  of  the  day.  There  were  pamphlets 
upon  the  tariff ;  there  were  writings  of  Henry  George, 
and  a  long  article  on  taxation  heavily  pencilled  with 
marginal  notes  ;  there  were  Mill's  "  Subjection  of 
Women "  and  "  Representative  Government."  There 
was  besides  a  motley  collection  of  clippings  which  all 
bore  more  or  less  upon  the  different  phases  of  woman's 
work  and  woman's  progress.  They  were  not  the  old 
familiar  hammer-and-tongs  argument  that  harked  back 
continually  to  one  demand,  but  they  were  the  newer, 
more  thoughtful,  more  logical  dealing  with  the  old  ques- 
tion. The  old  argument  was  there  under  it  all,  strong 
and  bright,  but  approached  through  other  doors.  Dick 
turned  over  the  papers  ;  they  were  a  revelation  to  him. 
He  felt  that  he  held  the  clue  to  his  cousin's  strong,  sue- 


SERIOUS  CONSEQUENCES.  365 

cessful  effort  to  do  the  work  which  lay  before  her  when 
her  father  had  left  them  the  burdened  farm  as  a  legacy. 
He  realized  that  it  had  been  no  girlish  whim  that  had 
made  her  rebel  at  her  father's  words  years  ago,  when  he 
had  complained  that  she  would  grow  up  to  a  useless 
womanhood.  There  had  been  a  definite  purpose  sus- 
taining her  ;  she  had  believed  that  she  had  a  son's  duty 
to  perform  ;  she  had  taken  up  her  duty,  doing  it  as  she 
believed  a  young  woman  of  health  and  mind  should,  and 
she  had  kept  abreast  with  the  questions  of  vital  import- 
ance of  the  day,  especially  those  which  concerned  the 
women  of  her  country. 

Dick  turned  to  the  pencillings  on  the  margins  of  some 
of  the  articles.  Particularly  was  he  struck  with  his 
cousin's  notes  upon  the  taxation  of  women  property- 
holders,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  realized 
what  the  position  meant  to  a  broad-minded,  well-edu- 
cated woman.  The  question  was  brought  home  to  him 
practically.  Here  was  he,  a  taxpayer,  caring  little  for 
the  property  he  was  taxed  for,  valuing  little  the  vote 
which  controlled  that  property,  and  quite  indifferent  to 
the  uses  to  which  the  taxes  were  applied.  Here  was  his 
cousin,  owning  property  which  she  toiled  day  and  night 
to  hold  together  ;  she  loved  the  ground  for  which  she 
paid  so  dearly,  she  knew  how  to  value  it,  how  to  take 
care  of  it ;  she  took  a  vital  interest  in  the  disposition  of 
her  taxes  ;  the  tax-collector  gathered  from  her  as  well  as 
from  himself  ;  and  yet  the  only  protest  that  she  could 


366  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

raise  in  defence  of  her  property  was  scribbled  on  the 
margin  of  a  newspaper  article. 

A  flush  of  genuine  feeling  swept  over  Dick's  face  as 
the  question  appealed  to  him  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life.  He  sat  for  a  long  time  with  the  papers  and  pam- 
phlets in  his  hands,  in  deep  thought.  He  had  never  felt 
before  that  these  questions  were  of  any  importance 
where  women  were  concerned.  He  had  always  compla- 
cently fancied  that  the  restless  movement  among  them 
was  confined  to  a  few  hard-featured,  masculine  agitators, 
but  here,  in  the  stillness  of  the  old  house,  he  was  con- 
fronted by  strong  and  silent  arguments  which  took  hold 
of  him  with  a  force  that  made  him  determine  to  learn 
his  cousin's  views  from  her  own  lips.  She  had  neither 
clamored  nor  demanded  any  thing.  She  had  quietly 
taken  up  the  labor  which  her  father  had  laid  down,  and 
through  that  hard  labor  and  still  harder  experience  she 
had  arrived  at  the  opinions  which  he  had  found  written 
upon  the  margins  of  the  old  newspapers. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE    POINT    OF    VIEW. 

THREE  weeks  from  the  day  of  the  expedition  to 
Fool's  Manor  Robin  was  sitting  up  and  even  moving 
about  her  room.  She  was  very  impatient  to  go  down- 
stairs and  take  up  the  burden  of  her  duties.  She  knew, 
of  course,  that  there  was  some  one  filling  her  place  and 
taking  all  responsibility,  but  she  could  not  submit  easily 
to  the  long  enforced  quiet.  Dick  was  of  course  still  at 
Airlie.  He  made  almost  daily  visits  to  Ivanwold,  and  it 
was  to  go  and  come  each  time  with  growing  dissatisfac- 
tion in  his  heart — dissatisfaction  at  the  position  he  occu- 
pied towards  his  cousin.  He  smiled  grimly  as  he  thought 
of  it — he,  of  all  men,  who  had  never  given  thought  or 
play  to  the  sentiments  of  life,  to  be  entangled  in  such  an 
uncertain  web  as  his  love  for  his  cousin  was  proving. 
He  longed  to  go  to  her  and  plead  his  cause  boldly,  but 
he  knew  he  must  wait.  The  only  relief  he  found  in  the 
situation  was  in  hard  work.  He  brought  out  Gilbert's 
desk,  which  had  stood  so  long  in  a  dark  corner  of  the 
sitting-room,  and  began  outlining  a  series  of  papers  he 

367 


368  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

had  been  asked  to  read  before  a  Boston  Society  of 
Natural  History  ;  and  as  he  had  been  allowed  to  suit 
himself  as  to  dates,  he  had  fixed  upon  a  time  late  in  the 
approaching  winter,  knowing  that  by  that  time  his 
cousin's  health  would  be  fully  re-established. 

It  was  perhaps  rather  exceptional  that  a  man  only  a 
little  over  thirty  years  of  age  should  have  attained  any 
prominence  in  science,  a  prominence  not  often  attained 
till  middle  life  and  oftener  not  attained  at  all  ;  but 
from  the  time  that  Dick  had  studied  with  Rosenbusch 
he  had  shown  an  ability  and  acuteness  quite  phe- 
nomenal. As  he  grew  older  and  gained  experience  in 
the  field,  he  prepared  and  read  a  series  of  papers 
before  one  of  the  scientific  societies  of  the  University, 
which  afterwards  had  been  published.  These  papers 
had  shown  remarkable  quickness  in  detecting  the  real 
significance  of  scientific  data,  and  they  had  attracted 
considerable  attention.  They  were  followed  by  a  series 
of  papers  still  more  able,  and  from  that  time,  young 
though  he  was,  he  had  been  recognized  as  a  man  of 
ability,  as  one  of  the  probable  coming  scientific  lights. 
His  career  was  even  compared  to  that  of  Lyell,  who  had 
become  famous  before  he  was  thirty.  When  Dick  re- 
turned to  his  own  country  he  had  received  many  flattering 
letters  from  prominent  men  of  science,  and  it  was  his 
wish  to  come  in  contact  with  them,  and  to  plunge  as  soon 
as  possible  into  the  work  of  research  which  the  vast  area 
of  his  own  country  offered. 


THE    POINT   OF   VIEW.  369 

Hand  in  hand  with  his  work  was  the  dream  of  his 
cousin.  He  always  seemed  to  see  himself  setting  out 
with  some  survey-party  or  going  off  on  some  lecturing 
tour,  perhaps  alone,  perhaps  accompanied,  but  always 
returning  to  her,  and,  strangely  enough,  always  returning 
to  Airlie.  Not  Airlie  as  it  was  to-day,  but  Airlie  as  it 
might  be,  a  model  estate,  brought  to  the  highest  perfec- 
tion by  a  woman's  brains  through  the  medium  of  his 
wealth.  Then  he  thought  of  the  other  side  of  the  pic- 
ture :  of  Airlie  as  perhaps  it  would  be,  with  two  lonely 
women,  one  going  to  her  grave  weary  and  spent,  the 
other  with  all  youth  crushed  out  under  a  load  of  debt 
and  drudgery  ;  and  himself  poking  around  among  dusty 
rocks,  or  grubbing  short-sightedly  for  some  scientific 
wonder  in  the  side  of  a  sandbank,  crabbed,  old  and 
alone,  with  Ivanwold  shut  up  or  rented. 

At  this  point  in  his  reflections  he  would  shake  himself 
up  and  mutter  :  "  A  cheerful  picture,  by  Jove  !  " 

Meanwhile,  he  told  his  aunt  that  he  must  see  his  cousin. 
Dorothea  demurred  and  put  him  off  for  a  day  or  two. 
Finally  he  told  her  that  the  price  of  wheat  had  gone  up, 
and  he  thought  it  a  good  time  to  sell,  but  he  could  not 
do  so,  of  course,  without  talking  it  over  with  his  cousin 
and  knowing  her  wishes  in  the  matter.  One  day  at  the 
very  end  of  October  he  stood  upon  the  threshold  of  her 
room.  He  was  to  see  her  at  last.  A  bright  fire  was 
burning  upon  the  hearth  ;  the  ruddy  glow  lighted  only 
a  part  of  the  room.  To  one  side  of  the  fire-place,  almost 
24 


3/0  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

in  shadow,  Robin  was  sitting  on  the  old  lounge.  Doro- 
thea's form  could  just  be  traced  dimly  against  the  win- 
dow. Dick  stood  in  the  doorway.  He  completely  filled 
it,  and  would  have  to  bend  his  head  to  enter.  He  lin- 
gered, almost  fearing  to  move,  the  room  was  so  still.  At 
last  Robin  said  brightly  : 

"  Is  it  thee,  Dick  ?  " 

He  entered  instantly  and  crossed  the  room  to  her  side. 
As  the  light  from  the  fire  fell  upon  him  for  an  instant,  it 
seemed  to  Robin  that  the  first  touch  of  energy  and  life 
since  the  day  of  their  fateful  drive  to  Fool's  Manor  en- 
tered and  took  possession  of  her.  She  rose  to  her  feet 
and  put  out  her  hand.  Dick  kissed  it  tenderly,  then 
once  again  more  impetuously,  and  held  it  fast,  while  he 
drew  up  a  low  chair  that  was  within  reach  and  seated 
himself  close  to  the  lounge.  But,  strangely  enough,  he 
had  nothing  to  say.  He  could  only  try  to  trace  her 
features  in  the  dim,  flickering  light,  and  clasp  more 
closely  the  hand  which  he  did  not  release.  Robin  seemed 
content  that  her  hand  should  remain  in  her  cousin's. 
She  felt  very  much  as  she  used  to  when  she  was  a  child 
and  slipped  her  hand  into  Dick's.  There  stole  over  her 
a  strange  pleasure  in  the  fact  of  mere  existence,  which 
she  did  not  try  to  analyze.  She  said  finally  : 

"  It  seems  actually  blissful,  Dick,  to  come  back  to  life 
again." 

Dick  did  not  reply.  He  had  never  felt  such  difficul- 
ties with  speech  before.  The  things  that  were  hovering 


THE   POINT  OF  VIEW.  371 

on  his  lips  it  would  not  do  to  utter  ;  the  words  he  ought 
to  say,  which  meant  nothing,  would  not  come  at  his  bid- 
ding. Dorothea  turned  from  the  window  and  looked  at 
the  silent  pair.  There  rose  up  in  her  heart  a  wish  which 
was  almost  a  prayer,  that  in  her  child's  life  there  was 
dawning  the  one  thing  which  in  her  opinion  made  a 
woman's  life  and  happiness  complete.  She  came  for- 
ward with  her  groping,  hesitating  step.  Dick  sprang  up 
to  wheel  a  chair  in  front  of  the  fire  for  her,  and  the  feel- 
ing of  strange  emotion  which  had  seemed  to  hold  him 
silent  for  so  long  a  time  was  broken.  Robin's  fast -re- 
turning health  was  talked  of  for  a  time,  then  the  state  of 
the  work  on  the  farm  was  entered  into,  and  finally  Dick 
boldly  laid  before  his  cousin  the  repairs  he  had  taken 
upon  himself  to  make  while  she  was  ill.  She  had  placed 
him  on  the  cousinly  footing,  almost,  indeed,  upon  a 
brotherly  footing  ;  surely  she  ought  to  accept  it  frankly 
in  that  spirit.  She  listened  quietly  while  he  went  into 
the  details  of  what  he  had  done  ;  then  she  turned  to  him 
and  said  falteringly  : 

"  Both  mother  and  I  are  grateful,  Dick,  for  all  thee 
has  done  ;  indeed  I  have  no  way  of  expressing  how  I 
feel  about  it." 

Dick  would  have  seen  tears  in  her  eyes  if  the  room 
had  not  been  so  dark.  As  it  was,  he  felt  the  emotion  in 
her  voice.  He  replied,  lightly  and  gayly  : 

"  You  may  not  feel  so  grateful  when  you  see  a  man- 
sard roof  on  the  ice-house  and  the  color  of  the  paint  on 


3/2  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

the  barn  ;  there  is  no  knowing  where  I  would  have 
stopped  if  I  had  not  heard  you  were  coming  down- 
stairs." 

There  was  a  pause  ;  then  Robin  asked,  gravely  : 
"  Has  there  been  no  news  of  Jared  Comly  ?  " 
"  None,"  replied  Dick  ;  then  he  went  on  to  say  that 
Jared's  relatives  had  come  one  day  to  Airlie.  They, 
with  his  aunt  and  himself,  had  talked  the  strange  affair 
all  over.  His  brother  said  that  Jared  had  always  been  a 
rolling-stone,  restless  and  unsettled  ;  that  he  was  his 
own  worst  enemy  ;  it  might  be  years  before  they  would 
hear  of  him  again.  They  had  afterwards  removed  to 
their  home  Jared's  belongings,  but  strange  to  say  only 
about  one  half  of  his  things  could  be  found,  which  con- 
vinced them  that  he  had  for  some  time  contemplated 
leaving  Airlie,  and  had  taken  his  things  away  quietly 
preparatory  to  going  suddenly  himself.  After  this  there 
was  a  long  silence,  then  the  conversation  drifted  to 
Dick's  own  movements.  He  spoke  of  his  work  and  of 
the  time  when  he  should  go  off  to  read  his  papers,  which 
would  be  in  February  or  March.  Then  it  came  time 
for  him  to  take  his  leave. 

For  the  few  days  following  he  presented  himself  with 
unfailing  regularity  at  the  twilight  hour  with  a  report  of 
the  day's  doings,  and  it  became  the  one  hour  to  him  out 
of  the  whole  twenty-four.  The  first  week  of  November 
was  drawing  to  a  close  when  Robin  went  down-stairs  for 
the  first  time.  Soon  she  drove  out  with  her  mother  in 


THE   POINT   OF  VIEW. 


373 


Dick's  snug  carriage,  and  she  began  to  think  that  it  was 
selfish  of  them  to  allow  Dick  to  stay  away  any  longer 
from  Ivanwold.  She  told  him  as  much,  but  he  replied 
that  he  intended  to  stay  at  Airlie,  unless  forbidden, 
until  he  should  leave  the  neighborhood  to  keep  his 
engagements  ;  by  that  time  all  work  on  the  farm  would 
practically  have  ceased,  and  she  would  be  as  strong  as 
ever,  her  arm  being  already  nearly  as  sound  as  the 
other. 

Robin,  having  assured  herself  that  nothing  had  been 
lost  by  her  illness,  began  to  enjoy  the  absolute  freedom 
from  care,  and  the  presence  of  her  cousin  in  the  house 
was  most  delightful.  Dorothea  even  begrudged  the  time 
Dick  took  to  visit  his  own  home,  and  both  mother  and 
daughter  dreaded  to  think  of  the  time  when  he  would 
leave  them.  Dorothea  openly  said  so  one  day,  and 
Dick  caught  a  sudden  answering  flash  from  his  cousin's 
eyes  which  made  him  look  questioningly  into  her  face, 
but  the  look  was  gone.  He  turned  away,  but  he  knew 
he  had  seen  it,  if  only  for  an  instant. 

The  time  flew  by  and  was  spent  by  the  cousins  in 
delightful  reading  and  still  more  delightful  discussions. 
Dick  had  not  forgotten  the  pamphlets  and  papers  which 
he  had  found  during  his  cousin's  illness.  He  wanted  to 
draw  her  out  upon  the  questions  which  he  knew  lay  so 
near  her  heart.  He  led  up  to  them  many  a  time,  always 
to  be  put  off  by  her.  She  seemed  reluctant  to  lay  them 
bare.  Robin  had  never  talked  really  with  any  one  upon 


374  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

the  question  of  "  Equal  Rights,"  but  she  realized  that 
Dick  had  brought  up  the  question  many  times,  that 
sooner  or  later  she  should  have  to  state  her  side  of  the 
argument.  She  knew  that  he  was  by  no  means  illiberal, 
but  he  was  a  man  and  bound  to  see  the  question  from 
the  standpoint  of  his  sex,  and  from  the  standpoint  of 
iron-bound  custom.  One  December  afternoon,  when 
she  and  Dick  had  come  from  the  dairy  and  had  just 
entered  the  sitting-room,  Dick  suddenly  brought  up  the 
subject.  He  mentioned  the  great  council  of  women 
which  had  been  held  in  town  the  year  before,  the  fame 
of  which  had  reached  him  even  in  Germany.  Robin 
stated  quickly  that  she  had  attended  the  council,  she 
had  ridden  twice  to  town  and  back  on  horseback  during 
its  session.  Dick  said  immediately  : 

"  How  does  it  happen,  cousin,  that  you,  a  Quaker,  are 
so  interested  in  this  question,  and  hold  such  advanced 
ideas  ? " 

"  How  does  thee  know  I  have  advanced  ideas  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  By  those  papers  and  pamphlets  and  by  your  own 
handwriting  endorsing  them,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the 
pile  which  lay  in  a  paper-rack. 

Robin  smiled  and  said  :  "  I  am  convicted,  I  see  ;  but 
thee  forgets,  Dick,  I  am  by  no  means  the  first  Friend 
who  has  held  advanced  ideas  ;  thee  forgets  the  Grimke 
sisters  and  Lucretia  Mott.  Besides,  half  the  men  and 
women  among  the  Friends  in  this  very  neighborhood 


THE   POINT   OF  VIEW.  375 

to-day  feel  and  think  as  I  do,  though  I  never  have 
talked  upon  the  subject  with  any  one.  But  I  am  quite 
willing  to  do  so  now  and  take  my  stand." 

A  flash  sprang  to  her  eyes  as  she  felt  that  she  was  to 
stand  forth  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  an  avowed  cham- 
pion for  the  cause  of  woman.  Dick  looked  at  her  gravely. 
He  thought  of  her  splendid  education,  of  her  clear,  sound 
mind,  and  of  all  she  had  accomplished  and  would  still 
accomplish  in  the  domain  of  a  man.  He  said  to  him- 
self :  "There  must  be  something  in  the  question,  or  such 
a  woman,  the  equal  of  any  man  living,  would  not  take  up 
the  cause."  There  was  silence  for  a  time.  Robin  was 
in  profound  thought ;  she  was  revolving  how  to  begin 
the  subject,  how  best  to  put  the  case.  Thoughts  came 
rushing  into  her  mind  in  distinct  shape.  With  bright- 
ened eyes  she  broke  out  abruptly,  in  a  cool,  quiet,  reflec- 
tive way  : 

"  See  here,  Dick,  this  is  the  way  it  presents  itself  to 
me.  Clearly  every  human  being  is  born  to  as  many  and 
the  same  rights  that  every  other  human  being  is.  Each 
has  the  same  right  to  acquire  and  hold  or  to  sell  proper- 
ty, and  of  course  must  have  the  right  to  use  all  the  known 
means  of  protection  and  preservation  that  all  or  any 
others  have.  To  my  mind  these  are  self-evident  propo- 
sitions." She  glanced  at  him  inquiringly.  He  nodded 
his  head  in  token  of  assent.  She  then  went  on,  rapidly 
and  forcibly :  "  Now,  in  that  supposed  state  of  nature, 
each  and  all  were  born  equals.  The  mother  cared  for 


376  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

her  offspring  till  each  wandered  off,  grew,  and  cared  for 
itself,  boys  and  girls  alike.  What  one  might  do,  the 
other  did  also,  so  far  as  strength  was  concerned.  Each 
cared  for  itself,  each  was  born  with  a  right  to  that.  But 
upon  the  formation  of  social  life,  the  imaginary  social 
compact,  each  relinquished  the  right  and  power  of  indi- 
vidual government  for  the  right  of  being  governed  and 
protected  by  the  society ;  and  in  this  relinquishment, 
each  gave  up  the  same  exactly,  man  and  woman,  and 
each  should  in  return  have  received  the  same,  man  and 
woman  alike.  If  this  new  creation,  society,  has  provided 
any  means  with  which  its  constituent  members  could 
protect  themselves  in  the  new  social  relation,  these  mem- 
bers on  reaching  the  prescribed  age  of  full  citizenship 
should  each  and  all  be  armed  with  the  same  weapons, 
woman  as  well  as  man.  The  right  to  this  is  surely  a 
natural  right.  The  right  of  self-government  is  surely  a 
natural  right." 

A  sudden  movement  on  Dick's  part  arrested  Robin. 
Before  she  could  resume  he  broke  in : 

"  Then,  cousin,  you  would  push  your  argument  to  the 
well-known  extreme  :  You  would  claim  the  ballot  ? "  he 
asked  interestedly. 

Robin  meditated  a  moment.  The  question  had  never 
been  directly  asked  of  her  before.  The  drag  of  her 
mother's  old-time  notions  had  always  hitherto  held  her 
from  expressing  her  views  openly,  but  now  she  replied 
quickly  : 


THE   POINT   OF   VIEW.  377 

"  Why  not,  Dick  ?  If  the  ballot  is  'one  of  the  means  of 
self-government,  is  not  the  right  to  vote  a  natural  right 
as  much  and  in  the  same  sense  as  the  right  to  food, 
clothes,  shelter  ?  for  all  these  depend  upon  the  power  to 
govern,  protect,  and  care  for  one's  self.  And  what  other 
really  effective  means  to  government  is  there  but  the  bal- 
lot ?  In  our  social  system  one  cannot  govern  one's  self 
directly  ;  that  must  be  done  by  means  of  the  familiar 
social  instrumentalities.  Now,  as  these  instrumentalities 
are  the  agencies  of  the  individuals  making  up  society,  why 
should  not  every  one  concerned  have  part  in  their  selec- 
tion ?  Indeed,  the  so-called  social  compact  by  its  terms 
seems  to  me  to  imply  this.  Woman  has  always  been  de- 
nied this  right  of  self-government,  although  in  the  state 
of  nature  she  had  it,  and  gave  it  up.  On  the  formation 
of  the  social  compact,  in  the  new  organization  she  received 
nothing.  The  man  received  his  own  dues  and  hers  also, 
and  when  pressed  he  says  he  represents  her,  he  is  her  agent, 
her  guardian,  her  protector,  her  head  and  brain-mas- 
ter. How  and  when  came  he  by  this  power  and  right  to 
represent  ?  Now,  one  can  in  no  sense  represent  another 
without  that  other's  free,  untrammelled  choice.  It  is  an 
atrocious  usurpation  for  one  by  mere  strength  to  assume 
thus  to  represent,  and  then  to  legalize  the  usurpation  by 
the  iron  chains  of  law  ;  by  habit,  custom  and  education, 
more  iniquitous  than  law.  Yet  these  are  the  sole  sources 
of  man's  dominion  over  woman.  Take  an  illustration. 
Our  government,  resting  on  the  consent  of  the  governed, 


378  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

needs  revenues,  contributions  from  the  subjects,  the  citi- 
zens, to  carry  it  on.  The  only  equitable,  just  ground  for 
this  revenue  is  a  grant  or  concession  of  the  subjects,  the 
citizens.  This  principle,  so  natural,  just  and  equitable 
in  itself,  and  so  practicable  when  government  rests  on 
suffrage,  is  the  foundation,  the  sole  source,  of  revenue 
both  in  this  country  and  in  Great  Britain.  It  would  be 
the  true  source  if  all  citizens  possessed  the  suffrage. 
The  people,  by  their  representatives  freely  chosen,  vote 
the  amount  of  revenue,  so  much  by  direct  taxation,  so 
much  by  indirect  imposts  and  stamps.  Now,  in  the 
choice  of  these  representatives  the  woman  is  represented 
by  man,  by  her  husband,  father,  son,  or  brother ;  that  is 
the  claim.  But  take  the  case  of  the  woman  without 
father,  husband,  son,  or  brother  :  who  represents  her  ? 
Every  such  woman  either  owns  property  to  be  taxed  di- 
rectly, or  consumes  food  and  fabrics  taxed  indirectly. 
Does  not  this  test  the  whole  matter  and  show  the  utter 
fallacy  of  existing  views  as  embodied  in  the  law  ? " 

Robin  was  hardly  less  surprised  than  Dick  at  her  un- 
precedently  long  and  vigorous  speech.  It  was  clear  that 
she  was  fully  roused,  and  that  she  had  a  listener  worthy 
of  her.  For  a  short  space  of  time  both  were  silent,  then 
Dick  said  : 

"  You  know,  cousin,  that  my  life  and  training  have 
rather  led  me  away  from  questions  of  this  sort,  so  you 
will  find  me  scarcely  fit  to  talk  with  you  on  the  subject ; 
but  I  recall  enough  from  my  reading  to  suggest,  that 


THE    POINT    OF   VIEW.  379 

in  the  light  of  history  the  so-called  social  compact,  with 
its  imaginary  state  of  nature,  never  better  than  a 
hypothesis,  has  been  discredited  and  finally  cast  aside." 

"  True,"  replied  Robin,  "  I  should  have  qualified  my 
use  of  the  term.  As  an  expression  purporting  to  define 
an  actual  historical  occurrence  it  must  undoubtedly  be 
discarded,  but,  as  has  been  said,  it  may  yet  well  be  '  a 
convenient  form  for  the  expression  of  moral  truths.'  I 
do  not  mean  more  than  this  in  using  the  phrase.  But 
put  even  the  phrase  aside,  how  is  the  argument  affected  ? 
The  mere  fact  that  history  shows  a  given  condition  to 
have  existed,  even  from  time  immemorial,  is  no  moral 
justification  of  that  condition.  Was  slavery  right  because 
of  its  long  life  unquestioned  ?  " 

"  I  would  not  say  that,"  said  Dick,  "  but  much  is  to 
be  said  in  favor  of  a  condition  which  has  always  had  its 
support  in  the  institutions  of  marriage  and  the  family 
and  what  those  institutions  involve.  There  is,  and  has 
always  been,  a  head  as  between  man  and  wife,  a  head  of 
a  family,  and  the  head  has  in  each  case  been  rightly  or 
wrongly  the  man.  The  process  by  which  man  as  dis- 
tinguished from  woman  became  the  political  unit  seems 
to  me  most  natural,  and  I  do  not  see  how  the  result  of 
that  process  can  well  be  changed.  You  would  not  have 
two  heads,  would  you  ? " 

R.obin  smiled.  "  That  is  the  old  familiar  argument 
that  is  always  brought  forth,  but  is  that  really  the  ques- 
tion ?  Is  not  the  question  rather  this  :  should  woman, 


380  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

who  is  equally  bound  by  the  laws,  be  disqualified  solely 
by  her  sex  to  participate  in  the  making  of  those  laws  ? 
for  we  agree,  I  assume,  that  all  laws  should  be  of  the 
making  of  the  governed  ?  " 

"  If  you  put  it  that  way,"  answered  Dick,  "  I  think 
that  sex  should  to  no  extent  be  the  test  of  participation 
in  political  rights.  The  ballot  is  now  in  the  hands  of 
thousands  to  whom  it  never  should  have  been  given  ; 
from  whom,  indeed,  I,  for  one,  insist  it  should  be  taken 
away.  Surely  it  cannot  be  claimed  that  the  situation  is 
to  be  improved  by  conferring  upon  all  women  what  the 
best  judges  agree  should  not  belong  to  all  men  ?" 

"  Thee  means,  I  suppose,"  queried  Robin,  "  that  as 
there  are  many  men  unfit  to  have  the  ballot,  as  many 
women  in  proportion  are  in  the  same  predicament?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Dick. 

"  That  is  probable,"  she  replied,  "»but  again  I  do  not 
see  that  that  affects  the  argument.  Thy  position  is  that, 
because  some  women  should  not  have  the  ballot,  all 
must  not  have  it.  Is  that  fair  ?  Take  the  case  I  have 
already  mentioned,  of  the  woman  without  father,  hus- 
band, son,  or  brother;  be  she  never  so  qualified,  she  is 
yet  denied  all  right  to  a  voice  in  her  own  government, 
simply  because  she  is  a  woman.  Does  thee  think  it  a 
fair  reason  for  such  a  state  of  things  to  say  that  some 
other  woman  is  unfit  to  enjoy  such  a  right  ?" 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Dick,  "  you  are  moving  to  new  ground  ; 
you  are  narrowing  your  claim  to  the  case  of  a  woman 


THE   POINT   OF  VIEW.  381 

peculiarly  placed  and  undoubtedly  qualified.  I  agree 
that  much  is  to  be  said  in  favor  of  such  a  claim." 

"  No,  I  am  not  moving  to  new  ground,"  persisted 
Robin,  echoing  Dick's  words,  "  I  am  only  using  an  illus- 
tration. Take  another  :  take  the  case  of  a  woman  own- 
ing property  and  paying  taxes  ;  should  not  she  have  a 
word  to  say  as  to  the  laws  governing  that  property  or 
disposing  of  those  taxes,  whether  or  not  she  has  the 
supposed  male  representative  assumed  ? " 

"  Again,  dear  cousin,"  interposed  Dick,  "  you  take  a 
special  case.  And  as  for  the  idea  of  a  male  representa- 
tive, I  make  very  little  of  that.  You  know  that  no  gov- 
ernment is  really  based  on  the  idea  of  an  individual 
representative  for  each  or  any  given  member  of  society. 
In  most  if  not  all  governments  large  minorities  are  at 
times  totally  unrepresented.  I  know  your  answer,"  he 
added  quickly,  for  Robin  was  about  to  speak,  "  you 
would  say  that  those  minorities  have  the  right  to  vote, 
and  that  the  exercise  of  that  right  is  in  itself  participa- 
tion in  government.  In  a  false  sense,  yes,  but  in  reality 
it  is  only  a  futile  attempt  at  such  participation.  Of  what 
practical  avail  is  such  a  right  ?  The  man  in  the  minority 
cannot  be  said  to  be  governed  by  his  consent." 

"  Not  literally,"  answered  Robin,  "  but  the  point  is 
that  he  has  place  in  a  system  which  has  his  consent,  and 
so  in  effect  he  does  consent,  although,  for  the  time  being, 
his  immediate  wishes  are  not  realized  in  the  government. 
The  avail  of  even  a  futile  vote  is  just  this  ;  it  enables 


382  GILBERT  P:LGAR'S  SON. 

the  minority  to  give  expression  to  its  wish,  and  if  enough 
be  added  to  that  minority  it  becomes  itself  the  govern- 
ing majority,  and  so  has  its  wish.  But  really,  Dick, 
thee  seems  to  me  always  to  get  away  from  the  question," 
added  Robin,  gravely. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  smiling,  "  let  us  come  back  to  it.  I 
was  objecting  that  you  rest  your  argument  on  special 
cases." 

"  L»thought  that  I  had  answered  that,"  said  she.  4<  Be- 
cause some  women  ought  not,  as  thee  thinks,  to  have  the 
ballot,  thee  would  deny  it  to  all.  And  yet  all  men  have 
it,  although,  as  thee  admits,  many  should  not." 

"  Well,  cousin,"  said  Dick,  who  was  beginning  to  feel 
that  he  was  not  a  very  successful  disputant  on  the  theme, 
"  I  see  that  we  look  at  the  question  from  wholly  different 
sides." 

"  Exactly,"  interrupted  Robin  with  an  air  of  satisfac- 
tion, "  when  thee  says  that  thee  yields  every  thing  :  it  is 
just  because  thee  cannot  look  at  the  question  from  my 
side,  that  thee  thinks  as  thee  does." 

Dick  smiled.  "  Does  n't  that  cut  both  ways  ?  "  he 
asked  quizzically,  and  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he 
added  :  "  I  was  saying  that  we  look  at  the  question  from 
different  sides,  and  so,  I  fear,  we  shall  never  be  at  one. 
Why  not  compromise  ?  Why  not  accept  my  admission 
that  many  men  now  unjustifiably  have  what  you  want, 
and  that  some  women,  equally  unjustifiably  if  you  please, 
do  not  have  it.  Then,  on  your  side,  why  not  admit  that 


THE   POINT   OF  VIEW.  383 

many  women  ought  not  to  have  it  any  more  than  the 
undeserving  men  ?  Then  we  should  agree  that  the  right 
to  the  ballot  should  be  determined  by  a  higher  test  than 
sex,  and  so  we  should  stand  on  principle." 

"  Utopian,"  said  Robin  smiling  and  with  a  shake  of 
the  head  :  "  Thee  cannot  get  the  ballot  away  from  the 
undeserving  man,  and  woman  will  not  be  content  to  be 
put  on  a  narrower  footing  than  her  brethren.  She  feels, 
with  Mill,  that  '  there  ought  to  be  no  pariahs  in  a  full- 
grown  and  civilized  nation,'  and  she  believes  that  in  the 
end  universal  suffrage  will  be  'justified  of  her  children,' 
though,  to  quote  Mill  again,  '  that  education  of  the  in- 
telligence and  of  the  sentiments  which  is  carried  down  to 
the  very  lowest  ranks  of  the  people  when  they  are  called 
to  take  a  part  in  acts  which  directly  affect  the  great  in- 
terests of  their  country 

"  Ah,  yes,  cousin,"  interrupted  Dick :  "  I  know  that  old 
tune,  '  the  ballot  as  an  educator,'  but " 

"  Never  mind  the  '  but,'  "  she  broke  in,  "  I  know  what 
thee  would  say  :  that  ignorance  and  bribery  and  all  that 
are  rampant  among  the  voting  classes,  even  after  years 
of  the  privilege  ;  but,  pray,  is  that  the  question  ?  Does 
thee  really  think  that  without  the  ballot  ignorance  and 
wrongdoing  among  the  present  voters  would  be  less? 
No,  Dick,  what  thee  says  reminds  me  of  the  fallen  saints 
we  see  about  us  ;  it  is  because  they  are  saints  that  we 
make  so  much  of  their  fall ;  if  they  were  not  saints  they 
would  still  be  as  bad  or  worse." 


384  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

Silence  fell  between  them  after  these  last  remarks,  and 
before  the  topic  could  be  resumed  Dorothea  came  into 
the  room  with  the  announcement  that  Harmony  Esten 
had  just  driven  over  from  The  Hatch  with  Henry 
Standish,  who  had  come  from  town  to  spend  the  Christ- 
mas holidays.  The  two  young  people  rose  reluctantly 
to  follow  Dorothea.  At  the  door  Dick  detained  Robin  a 
moment  to  say  : 

"  Cousin,  you  have  put  your  case  ably,  and  I  am  not 
satisfied  with  my  own  showing  on  the  question.  We  will 
return  to  it  again  ;  perhaps  we  may  meet  on  more  nearly 
common  ground  next  time." 

"  Then  thee  will  need  to  change  thy  position,"  she 
said. 

"  Perhaps,"  he  replied  significantly,  as  he  held  the 
door  open  for  her ;  and  they  went  out  to  greet  the  new- 
comers. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 
"  HAWKINS  is  CALLIN'." 

/^VF  course  it  was  not  possible  for  Dick  to  remain  so 
long  at  Airlie  without  giving  rise  to  much  talk  and 
gossip  in  the  neighborhood.  It  was  considered  natural 
enough  for  him  to  stay  on  the  farm  during  Robin's  ill- 
ness, but  when  she  was  able  to  be  about  again,  nay,  even 
riding  out  in  his  carriage,  and  when  two  farm  hands 
had  been  hired  to  do  Jared's  work  and  her  own  too, 
then  people  nodded  their  heads  and  wondered  why  he 
lingered.  The  interest  of  every  one  in  Fenny  Drayton 
was  centred  in  the  movements  at  Airlie.  If  Dick  was 
met  on  the  turnpike  going  in  any  direction  away  from 
Airlie,  it  was  to  be  greeted  with,  "Taking  a  holiday, 
Elgar  ? "  or  "  Thee  's  going  in  the  wrong  direction, 
eh,  Dick  ? "  Then  there  would  be  an  accompany- 
ing smile  or  a  knowing  look,  till  Dick  heartily  wished 
the  whole  neighborhood  would  fix  its  attention  in 
some  other  quarter.  He  hoped  that  none  of  the  idle 
talk  would  reach  his  cousin's  ears,  and  he  began  to  think 
that  he  had  better  hurry  his  departure  from  Airlie.  He 
25  385 


386  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

knew  that  if  he  were  ever  to  win  Robin,  it  would  not  be 
by  staying  at  her  side  continually.  He  felt  that  his 
chances  were,  perhaps,  very  small  of  ever  winning  her  at 
all.  He  had  had  a  half-fancy  that  during  her  illness  and 
convalescence  he  had  made  himself  so  indispensable  to 
her  that  she  could  not  do  without  him,  and  he  smiled 
half  bitterly  to  himself  when  he  thought  how  utterly  dis- 
pelled that  idea  had  been,  and  how  independent  of  him 
she  was.  Since  his  first  talk  with  her  upon  the  question 
of  woman,  they  had  several  times  gone  back  to  the  topic, 
taking  it  up  in  all  its  phases  and  bearings.  The  logical 
and  direct  way  in  which  she  had  put  her  arguments,  if 
not  convincing,  was  at  least  forcible  and  not  to  be  ig- 
nored. He  realized  that  she  was  not  a  woman  ever  to 
marry  because  she  should  need  protection  or  help  on  the 
farm  ;  if  she  ever  married,  it  would  be  solely  for  love  ; 
and  Dick  thrilled  as  he  thought  what  the  love  of  such  a 
woman  would  be.  Would  it  ever  be  his  ?  he  wondered. 
Then  he  suddenly  asked  himself  if  he  could  ever  expect 
her  to  give  up  her  home,  her  work,  and  follow  him  ? 
Could  he  expect  her  to  sacrifice  all  she  had  undertaken 
on  the  farm  ?  The  work  she  had  elected  to  do  in  life 
could  not  be  carried  on  anywhere  else.  Her  mother 
was  too  old  and  frail  to  be  transplanted  to  a  new  home, 
and  to  ask  a  daughter  to  leave  her  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. Why  should  she  be  called  upon  to  make  any  sac- 
rifice ?  Why  should  not  the  sacrifice  be  his  rather  than 
hers,  if  there  must  be  any  at  all  ?  His  work  could  be  as 


"  HAWKINS  is  CALLIN'."  387 

well  accomplished  in  one  place  as  another.  He  had 
much  less  at  stake  than  she.  He  had  been  a  wanderer 
for  so  many  years  he  could  live  anywhere  ;  he  had  no 
ties,  he  had  no  affection  for  his  own  home  ;  why  should 
not  he  go  to  Airlie  and  pitch  his  tent,  instead  of  breaking 
up  their  home  and  transplanting  them  all  to  Ivanwold, 
dreary,  unhome-like  Ivanwold  ?  No,  he  said  to  himself, 
reflectively,  whatever  changes  of  living  had  to  be  made 
should  be  made  by  him  ;  they  would  mean  less  to 
him.  She  should  continue  her  work  in  her  own  way ; 
she  should  have  his  aid  whenever  she  wanted  it.  He 
would  have  his  work  ;  but  what  would  he  do  with 
Ivanwold  ? 

Dick  smiled  to  think  how  his  thoughts  had  run  riot. 
The  picture  he  had  drawn  was  certainly  rather  an 
ideal  one,  perhaps  Utopian.  He  knew  that  if  ever  such 
an  arrangement  should  come  about,  it  would  be  regarded 
as  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  world.  He  would  doubt- 
less be  accused  of  having  fallen  under  the  sway  of  a 
strong-minded  woman,  but  he  smiled  to  think  how  little 
he  should  care  for  the  opinion  of  this  little  particular  cor- 
ner of  Maryland  ;  his  back  was  broad,  he  could  bear  it, 
provided  he  had  his  cousin's  love.  He  made  up  his  mind 
that  as  soon  as  the  Christmas  holidays  were  over,  he 
would  take  himself  off  for  several  months.  He  would 
seek  out  some  of  his  mother's  relatives,  and  after  a  taste 
of  their  social  life  would  keep  his  literary  engagements  ; 
then  perhaps  in  the  spring  he  would  join  some  expedi- 


GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 


tion  going  into  the  field,  and  in  the  summer  return  to 
the  country  ;  to  what  ? 

Meantime,  the  cousins,  together  with  Harmony  Esten 
and  Henry  Standish,  had  gathered  Christmas  greens. 
The  Club  had  been  held  at  The  Hatch  as  usual,  and  had 
brought  in  its  train  to  the  two  women  at  Airlie  the  many 
sad  memories  which  always  clustered  about  Christmas- 
tide.  The  holidays  were  at  last  over.  Harmony's  mar- 
riage was  fixed  upon  for  the  early  summer,  occasioning 
thereby  much  bitterness  of  spirit  to  Thaddy  Watkins, 
who  looked  black  and  sulky  whenever  any  chance  meet- 
ing brought  him  in  contact  with  the  young  people.  The 
neighborhood  finally  settled  down  to  the  leisure  and 
quiet  of  the  winter. 

As  soon  as  January  was  fairly  ushered  in  Dick  made 
his  preparations  to  go  East.  He  dreaded  to  turn  his 
back  upon  Airlie  and  all  that  it  held  for  him,  but  he 
realized  that  his  own  work  in  life  must  claim  his  atten- 
tion. He  did  not  announce  his  intended  departure  until 
the  last  moment.  One  day  he  said  to  Dorothea,  who 
was  sitting  before  the  sitting-room  fire  alone  : 

"  Aunt  Dorothy,  I  am  going  East  in  a  couple  of  days." 

Dorothea  looked  amazed.  She  had  fancied  that  he 
would  not  leave  them  until  late  in  the  winter,  by  which 
time  she  fondly  hoped  that  her  daughter  would  realize 
all  that  Dick  was  to  them,  and  would  be  won  by  his 
manliness  to  accepting  him. 

"  Going,  Richard  ? "  was  all  she  could  say. 


"  HAWKINS  is  CALLIN'."  389 

"  Yes,  dear  aunt,  I  think  the  sooner  I  go  the  better." 

"  Thee  has  given  up  then,  entirely,  Richard  ? "  she 
asked  sorrowfully. 

"  No,  aunt,  I  am  going  because  I  have  not  given  up." 
There  was  a  pause,  then  he  went  on  :  "  However  much 
I  may  dread  to  leave  you  and  Robin  during  the  lonely 
winter  months,  I  must  no  longer  abandon  my  work.  I 
have  been  in  America  six  months,  and  I  have  done 
nothing.  I  begin  to  be  restless  at  this  unusual  idleness, 
and  I  think,  as  I  said  before, -the  sooner  I  am  away  the 
better." 

"  How  long  will  thee  stay  away,  Richard  ?  " 

"  Six  months,  probably." 

"  Six  months  !  "  she  echoed  drearily  ;  then  she  added  : 
"  What  will  we  do  without  thee,  Richard,  all  during  the 
dreary  winter  months  ?  We  shall  miss  thee  terribly,  and  I 
am  sure  Robin  is  beginning  to  depend  upon  thee.  She 
needs  thee  more  than  she  is  aware  of." 

"  She  may  miss  me,  perhaps,  but  need  me— never  !  " 
Dick  spoke  with  energy,  and  with  just  a  tinge  of  bitter- 
ness in  his  voice.  Dorothea  felt  certain  from  his  tone 
that  her  daughter  had  been  giving  utterance  to  some  of 
her  queer  notions.  She  remembered  the  time  when  she 
had  told  her  that  she  did  not  "  need  a  man  to  take  care  of 
her,  she  could  do  that  for  herself  "  ;  and  Dorothea  felt 
sure  that  Dick  had  probably  heard  the  same  thing.  She 
hastily  said  : 

"I   hope   Robin   has   not  been   telling  thee  of   her 


390  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

independent  notions  of  not  needing  a  man  to  take 
care  of  her,  and  of  her  dreadful  ideas  about  equal 
rights  ?  " 

Dick  smiled  at  the  unusual  energy  and  feeling  in  his 
aunt's  tone.  "  Well,  aunt,  she  has  given  me  her  views 
on  the  subject,  and  while  they  certainly  are  advanced, 
they  are  not  dreadful.  I  am  not  at  all  prepared  to 
follow  her  to  the  extreme  she  goes  ;  still,  there  is  some- 
thing in  the  argument,  and  I  think  we  must  agree  that 
she  has  earned  a  right  to  think  as  she  does,  as  every 
other  woman  has,  who  proves,  as  she  has  done,  that  she 
can  stand  side  by  side  with  men  intellectually  and 
physically." 

"  Oh,  Richard  !  Richard  !  thee  too  believes  in  this 
wretched  movement,  which  will  make  the  women  of  our 
country  eschew  marriage  and  the  home  life  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  come,  now,  Aunt  Dorothy,  you  go  too  far  the 
other  way.  I  am  sure  that  you  confound,  as  so  many 
do,  the  two  things.  I  am  certain  that  Robin,  who  has 
argued  the  question  from  many  sides  during  the  last  few 
days,  does  not  disbelieve  in  nor  decry  marriage,  nor  see 
any  reason  why  the  two  may  not  go  hand-in-hand. 
I  confess  I  have  been  staggered  by  the  whole  question, 
as  she  presents  it.  I  am  not  able  to  see  my  way  clearly, 
but  I  do  not  mean  to  close  my  ears  and  eyes  to  it,  sim- 
ply because  I  am  a  man,  and  cannot  see  it  from  her 
standpoint.  To  do  so  would  be  to  set  myself  down  as 
narrow-minded  and  ungenerous."  Dick  did  not  pause  to 


"  HAWKINS   IS   CALLIN*."  39! 

think  that  his  words  reflected  upon  his  aunt's  attitude  on 
the  question.  She  sighed  and  said  wearily  : 

"  Well,  Richard,  I  am  old-fashioned  and  conservative. 
Robin  has  not  talked  much  about  these  things.  Of  course 
I  cannot  but  know  her  mind  upon  them.  Jared  used 
sometimes  to  discuss  the  question,  and  he  always  thought 
with  me.  He  talked  as  I  like  to  have  a  man  talk, 
who  regards  himself  as  the  natural  protector  and  head 
of  the  family." 

Dick  smiled  gravely,  and  said,  with  an  odd  tone  in  his 
voice  :  "  Yes,  I  can  fancy  exactly  what  Comly  would 
think  upon  such  a  question."  But  he  did  not  mean 
to  enter  upon  any  further  discussion,  and  both  became 
silent.  After  a  little,  Dorothea  said  : 

"  Richard,  suppose  in  the  days  to  come  thy  wishes 
should  never  be  realized,  will  thee  go  away  from  us 
entirely  ?  Thee  knows  I  am  an  old  woman  now,  and  I 
cling  to  the  few  who  are  left  me." 

"  No,  aunt,  I  would  never  permanently  leave  my  kins- 
women, but  living  at  Ivanwold  would  be  out  of  the 
question.  I  should  probably  become  something  of  a 
wanderer  again.  But  where  is  Robin?  it  grows  late." 

"  The  men  are  cutting  ice  this  afternoon,  'and  Robin 
went  out  to  look  after  them." 

"  Why,  this  is  only  our  first  cold  snap  ;  why  does  she 
not  wait  for  better  ice  ? " 

"  Ah,  Richard,  it  never  does,  in  our  changeable  climate, 
to  pass  by  the  first  good  freeze." 


3Q2  GILBERT   ELGAR*S   SON. 

"  Robin  did  not  tell  me  she  intended  to  be  out  on  the 
farm  to-day.  I  should  not  have  stayed  so  long  at  Ivan- 
wold  if  I  had  known  it." 

He  hurried  from  the  room  out  into  the  sharp,  frosty 
air.  He  crossed  the  side  lawn  and  turned  into  the  nar- 
row back  lane  at  the  end  of  which  was  the  shallow  ice- 
pond.  When  he  came  within  a  certain  distance  he  could 
plainly  hear  the  sharp  sound  of  the  axe,  the  scraping 
noise  of  the  ice-hook,  and  the  ringing  of  the  blocks  of  ice 
as  they  were  thrown  into  the  cart.  He  came  upon  the 
group  and  stopped  a  moment  to  take  in  the  perfect 
winter  scene.  Two  of  the  men  were  on  the  ice  with  axe 
and  ice-hook  ;  two  stood  upon  the  edge  of  the  pond, 
close  to  which  the  ox-cart  was  drawn  up.  They  tossed 
the  chunks  one  to  the  other  and  thence  to  the  cart,  while 
Robin,  with  Adsum  and  Kane  at  her  side,  stood  watching 
the  scene  with  interest.  Overhead  was  a  cold  gray  sky, 
and  in  the  distance  a  background  of  dense,  leafless 
woods.  Dick  hurried  forward,  saying  : 

"  Is  it  prudent  for  you  to  be  exposed  to  this  cold, 
cousin  ? " 

Kane  spoke  up  quickly,  before  she  could  reply : 
"  'Deed,  Mr.  Dick,  I 's  right  glad  you  's  come  'long.  I 's 
been  tellin'  Miss  Rob  it 's  no  use  her  stayin'  in  this  yere 
cold.  For  Hawkins  done  called  sure  'nough  this  time." 
Robin  smiled  and  Dick  looked  puzzled. 

"Who  is  'Hawkins/  Kane?"  Dick  asked.  Kane 
looked  incredulous  that  any  one  should  not  know  who 
"  Hawkins  "  was.  Robin  interposed  : 


"  HAWKINS  is  CALLIN'." 


393 


"  Why,  Dick,  '  Hawkins  '  is  the  north  wind,  and  when- 
ever it  grows  very  bitter  in  winter,  our  Maryland  negroes 
say  '  Hawkins  is  round,'  and  if  it  blows  and  blusters  they 
say  '  Hawkins  is  callin,'  "  she  explained. 

"  Well,  then,  cousin,  to  use  Kane's  parlance  '  Hawkins 
is  callin,'  too  loudly  for  you  to  be  out  here  any  longer  " 

"  It  is  not  a  bit  cold,  Dick  ;  I  revel  in  this  keen  air." 
She  turned  a  glowing  face  and  sparkling  eyes  upon  him. 
Dick  took  in  the  robust,  young  figure,  the  face  partly 
sheltered  by  a  large  drooping  felt  hat,  the  heavy,  close- 
fitting  jacket,  the  kilted  skirt,  and  thick,  stout  boots  made 
like  a  man's.  Robin  saw  his  glance  sweep  over  her. 
She  said  quickly  as  if  in  answer  : 

"  Thee  sees  I  am  warmly  dressed.  Perhaps  my  garb 
is  not  very  pretty  nor  stylish,  but,  Dick,  thee  knows  I 
could  not  get  about  with  drapery  or  furbelows  on  my 
out-of-door  farm  dress."  There  was  a  half-deprecating 
tone  in  her  voice.  Dick  said  quickly  : 

"  I  was  thinking,  cousin,  that  I  never  saw  you  look  so 
well,  or  so  becomingly  dressed  ;  it  is  the  first  time  I  have 
seen  you  in  your  winter  work-a-day  garb." 

When  the  cart  was  finally  laden  and  began  to  creak 
over  the  frozen  ground  on  its  way  to  the  ice-house,  the 
two  young  people  followed  slowly  behind  it. 

"  I  believe,  Robin,  you  fairly  delight  in  every  variety 
of  farm  work." 

"  Yes,  Dick,  I  can  fancy  no  life  so  full,  so  satisfactory 
as  that  of  a  successful  farmer,  who  sees  his  crops  turn 
out  well,  whose  farm  nourishes  and  improves  from  year  to 


394  GILBERT   ELGAR  S   SON. 

year,  whose  stock  is  all  of  the  best,  purest  breeds,  whose 
land  is  his  own,  untouched  by  mortgage  or  debt." 

She  sighed  as  she  ended  her  words.  Dick  turned  and 
looked  into  the  face,  clouded  for  an  instant  by  the  burden 
which  lay  so  heavily  upon  her,  and  he  thought  what  an 
unattainable  woman  she  was  ;  perhaps  it  was  going  to  be 
entirely  out  of  his  power  ever  to  lift  the  burdens  which 
pressed  upon  her.  He  had  no  clue  to  the  state  of  her 
feelings  for  him,  there  was  no  shade  in  her  manner  to 
him  by  which  to  determine  it.  There  had  been  only  the 
flash  from  her  eyes  on  the  memorable  day  when  his 
aunt  had  openly  expressed  her  sorrow  for  the  time  when 
his  departure  from  Airlie  should  take  place.  He  re- 
membered that  that  same  flash  from  her  eyes  had  brought 
the  first  hope  to  his  heart.  They  had  reached  the  porch. 
It  was  almost  dusk,  and  feeling  the  nearness  of  his  de- 
parture he  said  abruptly  : 

"  I  am  going  to  leave  Airlie  to-morrow,  my  cousin." 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment,  while  the  wide  brim 
of  Robin's  hat  shielded  her  face  so  completely  that  Dick 
could  get  no  idea  of  its  expression. 

"  Well,  Dick,"  she  said  slowly,  "  I  cannot  but  think 
thee  is  right.  We  have  taken  up  thy  time  and  monop- 
olized thee  unwarrantably.  I  am  now  really  as  well  and 
strong  as  I  ever  was.  Thee  has  thy  work  and  thy  duties 
elsewhere.  But  thee  must  come  up  nearly  every  day  and 
see  us  ?  Thee  won't  mind  the  bad  roads  ?  for  we  shall 
be  very  lonely,  mother  and  I."  And  she  looked  up  in 


"  HAWKINS  is  CALLIN'."  395 

his  face  with  the  same  old  frankness  that  she  used  to 
show  him  as  a  child. 

"  But,  cousin,  day  after  to-morrow  I  shall  leave  Ivan- 
wold  and  the  neighborhood  entirely." 

"  Entirely  ? "  she  echoed  in  surprise.  "  Does  thee 
mean  forever  ?  "  she  asked  in  a  quick  way. 

"  No,  not  forever,  only  for  some  months.  You  see," 
he  said  cheerfully  and  lightly,  "  I  have  been  idle  a 
a  long  time,  and  I  am  quite  unused  to  it.  I  think  it  is 
high  time  I  was  picking  up  the  threads  and  making  a 
place  for  myself  in  my  native  country.  What  do  you 
think  ?  "  He  turned  towards  her,  trying  to  read  some 
expression  upon  the  cheek  and  lips,  the  only  parts  of  her 
face  visible  beneath  the  hat. 

"  You  do  not  answer,"  he  said  at  last,  as  she  con- 
tinued silent. 

"As  I  said  before,  I  think  thee  is  quite  right,"  she 
finally  replied  in  a  low  tone.  Her  manner  was  soft  and 
gentle.  She  did  not  look  at  him.  An  indefinable  some- 
thing made  Dick  face  her  suddenly,  compelling  her  to 
look  up  at  him.  He  asked  quickly  and  with  a  ring  in  his 
voice  : 

"  Robin,  do  you  need  me  ?  do  you  want  me  to  stay  ?  " 

Was  he  thinking  of  her  debts  ?  she  wondered.  She 
herself  had  recalled  them  to  him  only  a  few  moments 
before  ;  was  he  again  going  to  offer  her  pecuniary  aid  ? 
The  slight  hesitancy  of  speech  and  softness  of  manner 
vanished.  She  looked  up  gravely  and  said  : 


396  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

"  No,  Dick,  I  do  not  need  thee." 

They  stood  a  moment  facing  each  other.  Dick  won- 
dered what  had  brought  so  sudden  a  change  in  her  man- 
ner, which  had  been  so  soft  and  gentle  a  moment  before. 
She  probably  had  answered  thus  to  show  him  that  she 
would  suffer  no  avowal  from  his  lips  ;  he  must  accept  it. 
He  did  not  dream  that  she  was  thinking  of  the  old  debts  and 
connecting  them  with  his  words,  construing  the  latter  as 
a  preliminary  step  towards  offering  financial  help.  They 
stood  silent  in  the  gathering  dusk  of  the  winter  night. 
The  wind  whistled  round  the  corner  of  the  porch,  and 
the  old  locust  trees  in  the  west  lawn  swayed  and  bent  be- 
fore the  fierce  blast.  Robin  slightly  shivered.  Dick 
noticed  it  and  said  quietly,  in  his  usual  voice  as  if 
resuming  the  conversation  of  a  few  moments  back  : 

"  What  a  quaint  conceit  to  invest  the  north  wind  with 
such  an  every-day  sort  of  personality.  I  shall  never 
hear  the  wind  blow  again  without  thinking  of  '  Hawkins,' 
and  of  the  perfect  picture  your  group  made  at  the  ice- 
pond  to-day." 

Robin  made  no  answer.  She  felt  the  change  from 
Dick's  previous  earnest  words  to  the  light  tone  of  his 
casual  remark.  She  had  a  sudden  conviction  that  his 
words  had  held  no  suggestion  such  as  she  had  sensitively 
fancied  ;  he  had  had  no  thought  of  offering  aid,  and  the 
real  meaning  of  his  words  flashed  over  her  so  overwhelm- 
ingly that  she  was  dumb.  She  could  say  nothing  ;  she 
could  not  explain  that  she  had  misunderstood.  He  had 


"  HAWKINS  is  CALLIN'."  397 

been  thinking  of  a  need  more  far-reaching  than  the  need 
of  money  when  he  had  asked,  "  Do  you  need  me  ?  do  you 
want  me  to  stay  ? "  His  words,  though  not  a  direct 
avowal,  seemed  plain  in  the  sudden  illumination  which 
came  to  her.  She  felt  that  she  had  rejected  him  a  second 
time. 


CHAPTER  xxx. 

ROBIN    FACES    THE    TRUTH. 

F^VlCK  and  Robin  lingered  for  a  few  moments  in  the 
keen  night  air,  though  neither  felt  that  there  was 
any  thing  further  to  say.  At  last  they  turned  reluctantly 
and  entered  the  sitting-room,  rather  subdued.  Dick 
tried  to  throw  off  the  quiet  mood  which  he  felt  stealing 
over  him.  It  was  his  last  night  at  Airlie  and  they  must 
not  guess  what  it  meant  to  him.  There  was  nothing  to 
suggest  to  Dorothea  that  any  words  of  moment  had 
passed  between  them  ;  she  could  not  be  certain  that 
Robin  even  knew  of  his  intended  departure.  As  the 
evening  passed  and  they  talked  of  various  things,  she 
began  to  be  troubled  lest  her  daughter  really  did  not 
know  that  Dick  was  hastening  the  time  of  his  leaving 
them.  She  did  not  wish  Robin  to  be  unduly  surprised  ; 
but  a  chance  word  soon  set  her  at  rest,  and  before  they 
parted  for  the  night  his  going  was  quite  fully  discussed. 
The  next  day  Dick  left  Airlie.  As  he  was  leaving 
Dorothea  begged  him  to  ride  up  for  a  final  good-bye 
before  he  left  the  neighborhood  the  following  day.  But 

398 


ROBIN   FACES   THE   TRUTH. 


399 


Dick  gayly  replied  that  he  did  not  find  parting  such 
"  sweet  sorrow  "  as  to.  wish  it  to  be  long  drawn  out. 
He  kissed  Dorothea  tenderly,  but  he  only  took  Robin's 
hands  for  a  moment  ;  he  knew  that  he  had  no  cousin's 
kiss  to  give  her.  There  was  nothing  by  which  to 
tell  that  the  parting  was  a  trial  to  him  ;  not  an  allusion 
to  any  time  of  meeting  in  the  future,  not  a  backward, 
tender  look  for  the  woman  who  stood  on  the  porch 
and  silently  watched  him  ride  away.  Dorothea  had  not 
gone  out  to  the  porch  to  see  him  off,  for  "  Hawkins  "  was 
whistling  keenly  in  the  chimneys  and  round  the  corners 
of  the  old  house,  and  she  could  not  bear  his  icy  touch. 
When  Robin  entered  the  sitting-room  a  moment  later  her 
mother  noted  the  grave  look  upon  her  face  and  the  pre- 
occupied manner  in  which  she  set  about  some  light  home 
tasks.  Dorothea  meant  to  be  wise  ;  she  would  not  ques- 
tion her  daughter,  she  would  make  no  remark,  she  would 
not  repeat  what  Dick  had  said  the  day  before  about  go- 
ing away  because  he  had  not  given  up.  She  felt  that 
should  Robin  arrive  at  a  knowledge  of  any  love  for  her 
cousin  it  must  come  to  her  unaided  by  hint  or  suggestion 
from  her.  She  herself  must  not  betray  any  solicitude  in 
the  matter,  such  as  she  had  felt  and  injudiciously  ex- 
pressed in  Jared's  case.  Poor,  hot-headed,  homeless 
Jared,  where  was  he  now  ?  she  wondered.  She  thought 
of  him  sorrowfully,  although  she  did  not  often  speak  of 
him,  but  as  Robin  came  near  her  chair  on  some  errand 
she  said  suddenly  : 


4OO  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

"  Daughter,  where  does  thee  suppose  Jared  is  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  mother,  I  do  not  know,"  she  said  sadly. 
She  could  scarcely  bear  to  hear  him  mentioned,  for  it 
brought  back  the  dreadful  expedition  to  Fool's  Manor, 
the  painful  words  in  the  Jower  window,  the  disastrous 
ride  home,  and  her  subsequent  illness.  She  had  never 
told  her  mother  of  what  had  passed  between  them. 
She  dreaded  to  recall  the  reckless,  hopeless  words  he 
had  uttered,  but  to-day,  in  the  hush  and  winter  quiet 
which  surrounded  them,  she  felt  like  going  over  the 
whole  event,  of  unburdening  to  her  mother  the  whole 
story  of  his  declaration.  She  said  : 

"  This  is  the  first  time  I  have  felt  like  going  over  the 
events  of  the  night  of  Jared's  disappearance,  and  I 
would  like  to  tell  thee,  mother,  what  passed  between  us 
in  the  tower  window."  She  laid  before  her  mother  the 
whole  scene.  Dorothea  listened  quietly.  She  wiped 
away  the  silent  tears  as  they  gathered.  When  Robin 
had  finished  she  asked  : 

"  Did  any  one  of  the  party  know  what  had  passed  be- 
tween you,  daughter  ? " 

"  No,  mother,  though  Cousin  Dick  guessed  something 
of  it." 

"  Thee  feels  sure,  daughter,  that  Jared  is  living — that 
he  did  not  lay  violent  hands  upon  himself  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother,  I  am  sure  of  it  ;  I  think  he  has  gone 
out  West  again.  I  believe  he  had  been  planning  to 
leave  us  suddenly.  He  once  told  rae  that  the  West  was 


ROBIN   FACES   THE   TRUTH.  401 

no  place  for  a  Quaker,  but  in  spite  of  that  there  was 
something  in  the  rough  life  on  a  ranch  which  had  a  fas- 
cination for  him,  and  I  believe  he  has  returned  to  it." 

"  I  sometimes  think,  daughter,  that  Jared's  recklessness 
and  moods  came  more  from  disappointed  hopes  than 
from  disposition  and  character." 

"  No,  mother,  thee  is  wrong  in  thy  estimate.  He  was 
innately  moody,  reckless,  and  at  times  almost  savage. 
Heaven  help  him  !  poor  fellow."  They  said  no  more. 

The  winter  closed  in  stormy  and  bleak.  The  roads 
became  almost  impassable  ;  the  lane  was  a  sheet  of  glar- 
ing ice.  Rain,  sleet  and  hail  succeeded  each  other,  with 
only  occasional  snow,  which  did  not  stay  long  upon  the 
ground.  There  was  absolutely  nothing  going  on  in  the 
neighborhood.  The  weather  made  any  thing  like  socia- 
bility almost  impossible,  and  the  two  women  scarcely 
left  Airlie  for  weeks  together.  Robin  dismissed  one  of 
the  men  whom  Dick  had  hired  in  the  autumn  ;  there 
was  nothing  for  him  to  do,  and  keeping  him  was  an  ex- 
pense she  could  ill  afford.  She  made  her  daily  rounds 
of  the  dairy  and  stables,  no  matter  what  the  weather  was. 
After  Jared  had  disappeared  in  the  early  autumn  and 
while  she  was  sick,  Kane,  crippled  though  he  was,  had 
undertaken  the  weekly  trips  to  town  with  the  market- 
wagon.  As  the  winter  advanced  and  the  weather  grew 
stormier  these  trips  became  very  rough.  Robin  thought 
Kane  was  not  fit  to  be  so  exposed.  She  said  as  much. 

"  'Deed,  Miss  Rob,  you  's  not  to  say  n'ary  word.     I  's 
26 


4O2  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

crippled,  but  I  's  got  more  sense  than  Bill  or  Saunders 
or  the  new  man,  an'  I  's  the  onliest  one  can  han'le  the 
money  decent  an'  safe.  So  I  's  goin'  to  town." 

However,  the  girl  insisted  that  he  must  have  some  one 
of  the  half-grown  boys  picked  up  from  among  the  many 
in  the  neighborhood  to  go  with  him  each  week  ;  they 
would  be  only  too  glad  of  a  jaunt  to  the  great  town.  In 
spite  of  this  precaution,  Robin  would  watch  anxiously 
for  Kane's  return  on  the  market-days.  She  would  go  to 
the  porch,  or  half-way  down  the  icy,  slippery  lane,  to 
listen  for  the  rattle  of  the  wagon.  She  felt  that  Kane 
was  very  precious  to  her.  He  was  one  of  the  few  links 
between  the  old,  careless,  prosperous  days  of  her  father's 
time  and  the  straightened,  troubled  days  of  the  present. 
She  could  rely  upon  his  discretion  and  advice  almost  as 
surely  as  upon  his  faithful  service.  And  when  the  day 
should  come  that  he  could  no  longer  serve  her,  he  should 
be  cared  for  and  provided  for  as  long  as  Airlie  roof  was 
over  their  hea.ds.  Whenever  he  came  home  from  town 
there  was  always  awaiting  him  a  roaring  fire  in  the  inner 
kitchen,  a  comfortable  warm  drink,  and  a  steaming  hot 
supper,  and,  better  than  all,  a  sweet  word  from  "  Miss 
Rob." 

The  days  slipped  by,  but  they  were  lonely  days  for  the 
two  women.  They  did  not  tell  each  other  so,  nor  did 
they  make  any  complaint.  Robin  felt  it  less  than  her 
mother  ;  she  had  her  daily  tasks,  her  books,  and  her  own 
thoughts,  which  seemed  at  times  to  be  absorbing.  But 


ROBIN  FACES  THE  TRUTH.  403 

Dorothea,  as  she  sat  and  knitted  before  the  fire,  secretly 
felt  that  she  was  cut  off  from  the  rest  of  the  world.  She 
missed  Dick,  who  had  always  come  back  from  Ivanwold 
with  a  message  from  Deborah,  or  else  with  something 
bright  and  interesting  to  tell  ;  but  perhaps  she  missed 
Jared  more  than  Dick,  for  during  the  previous  winter  he 
had  been  wont  to  come  tramping  in  with  some  spice  of 
neighborhood  gossip.  Even  in  the  worst  weather  he 
always  managed  to  get  to  First-Day  Meeting,  and  she 
invariably  received  on  his  return  messages,  books  and 
a  whole  budget  of  news. 

The  sole  bright  days  of  the  present  winter  to  her 
were  the  days  of  the  arrival  of  Dick's  letters,  which  came 
usually  addressed  to  her.  They  were  full  of  his  work 
and  of  the  people  he  was  brought  in  contact  with. 
Occasionally  there  was  mention  of  dinners  and  names 
of  distinguished  men  and  women  whom  he  met  there. 
Finally,  in  one  of  his  letters  was  an  enthusiastic  account 
of  a  renewal  of  acquaintance  with  his  mother's  relatives, 
and  particularly  of  some  charming  cousins  whom  he 
said  he  had  forgotten  were  so  delightful  and  culti- 
vated ;  and  this  was  followed  by  a  glowing  eulogy  on 
American  women  generally.  Then  there  came  quite 
a  gap  in  his  letters.  At  last,  early  in  April,  he  wrote 
that  in  a  few  weeks  he  should  go  West  with  an  ex- 
pedition which  was  going  into  the  field  for  some  months. 
Dorothea  had  been  worried  ever  since  the  arrival  of 
the  letter  with  the  account  of  the  charming  cousins. 


404  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

She  felt  glad  that  Dick  was  going  into  the  field,  for 
she  remembered  the  worldly  family  to  which  Dick's 
mother  had  belonged.  She  thought  of  Henry's  life, 
wrecked  by  this  same  worldliness,  and  she  grew  faint 
within  as  she  thought  of  Dick  exposed  to  the  same  in- 
fluences. She  did  not  take  into  account  the  differ- 
ence between  the  two  men  :  Henry  quiet  and  dreamy, 
fascinated  by  what  was  so  utterly  new  to  him,  so  dif- 
erent  from  his  quaint  home  and  its  surroundings  ; 
Dick,  on  the  contrary,  cool  and  perfectly  familiar  with 
the  manners  and  usages  of  the  great  world,  undazzled, 
unattracted  and  already  heart-fettered. 

As  for  Robin,  she  too  thought  of  her  cousin.  She  had 
been  studying  him  during  the  long,  quiet  weeks  of  winter, 
and  had  been  judging  him  dispassionately,  as  an  outsider 
might  do.  She  went  over  his  boyhood  as  she  imperfectly 
remembered  it.  She  recalled  many  generous,  boyish 
traits.  One  scene  always  stood  out  from  the  rest,  and 
she  thrilled,  as  she  had  done  then,  when  she  had  sat  on 
the  top  rail  of  the  fence  and  saw  him  conquer  Comanche  ; 
saw  and  felt  again  the  power  of  human  mind  and  will 
over  brute  strength.  She  thought  of  his  years  of  absence 
which  had  seemed  to  them  so  selfish,  and  she  thought 
what  they  had  been  to  him,  full  of  study  and  research. 
She  thought  of  his  mind,  his  work,  his  attainments  ;  what 
an  intellectual  stimulant  he  had  been  to  her  during  the 
weeks  he  had  been  at  Airlie.  She  measured  him  with 
Evan  Massie,  the  only  other  intellectual  man  she  had 


ROBIN   FACES   THE  TRUTH.  405 

ever  known.  Evan  perhaps  possessed  in  some  directions 
a  more  profound  mind,  perhaps  a  deeper  knowledge,  but 
it  was  the  knowledge  that  was  bound  down  by  books  by 
minds  that  had  gone  before.  Dick  wasted  no  time  on 
theories,  no  time  in  idle  speculations  :  his  was  the  broad 
mind  of  culture,  of  experience,  of  observation,  of  think- 
ing out  and  grasping  what  was  true  and  letting  the  rest 
go.  In  the  branches  of  science  to  which  his  heart  and 
mind  were  given  he  was  brilliant  and  learned.  She  ran 
over  her  talks  with  him  and  the  many  arguments  they 
had  had  upon  the  question  of  woman.  He  could  not  be 
said  to  be  in  sympathy  with  her  view  of  that  question ; 
he  was  even  opposed  to  it ;  but  how  different  his  opposi- 
tion from  Jared's,  who  had  a  "  sphere  "  for  woman  in 
which  he  kept  her  under  lock  and  key — poor  Jared  ! 
But  Dick  was  rational,  even  liberal.  It  was  a  new  ques- 
tion to  him  ;  he  would  probably  never  accept  it,  but  he 
would  be  tolerant  and  just.  Then  she  thought  of  the 
scene  in  the  sitting-room  when  he  first  came  home  from 
Germany  and  in  his  impetuosity  had  wanted  to  take  the 
debts  on  the  place  and  pay  them  off,  and  then  had 
offered  to  marry  her  in  order  to  take  care  of  her  mother 
and  herself.  At  the  memory  of  it  there  burned  in  her 
eyes  a  deep,  steady  light.  She  knew  that  she  was  facing 
a  problem  and  had  been  facing  one  for  months,  although 
unacknowledged  till  now. 

Sometimes  she  had  gone  off  alone  with  her  books  in 
order  to  shut  out  for  a  few  hours  each  day  the  haunting 


406  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

words  which  her  cousin  had  suddenly  uttered  the  night 
before  he  went  away  :  "  Do  you  need  me  ?  do  you  want 
me  to  stay  ?  "  These  words  had  followed  her  all  about, 
through  her  tasks  at  the  house,  to  the  dairy  and  the 
stables  ;  they  would  persistently  come  between  her  eyes 
and  the  pages  of  the  book,  until  one  day  she  suddenly 
turned  resolutely  and  faced  her  inner  self.  She  said  : 
"  Robin,  thee  has  been  repeating  to  thyself  these  words 
over  and  over  again  ;  now  let  us  face  them  and  have 
done  with  it  ;  let  us  answer  them  frankly,  honestly,  and, 
no  matter  what  the  consequences  are,  abide  by  the  an- 
swer." Thus  she  sternly  communed  with  herself.  She 
sat  in  utter  quiet,  taking  up  the  arguments,  the  self- 
questionings,  and  squarely  facing  the  situation.  In  the 
first  place,  what  did  Dick  really  mean  when  he  said, 
"  Do  you  need  me  ?  "  What  did  he  have  in  mind  ?  Did 
he  mean,  as  she  had  quickly  fancied  at  the  time,  the 
usual  pecuniary  dependent  need  of  a  woman  for  a  man  ? 
She  remembered  the  ring  in  his  voice,  the  light  in  his 
face,  as  he  had  asked  her  the  question,  and  the  answer 
came  promptly,  "  No,  he  meant  it  in  its  deeper  sense. 
He  meant  what  a  man  means  when  he  feels  that 
need  himself,  when  he  stands  face  to  face  with  the 
woman  he  loves."  As  she  said  this  to  herself  a  faint 
color  came  to  her  quiet  face.  Now  the  question  for 
her  to  answer  was,  "  Did  she  need  Dick  ?  did  she 
want  him  to  stay  ? "  How  was  she  to  answer  herself  ? 
It  was  a  mighty  thing  to  do  battle  with  ;  she  would  go 


ROBIN   FACES   THE   TRUTH.  407 

back  a  little,  and  ask  herself  a  few  questions.  "  How 
and  by  what  means  had  it  come  about  that  she  was 
obliged  to  face  herself  thus  ?  why  was  she  having  to 
question  her  heart,  and  pry  into  its  recesses  ?  She  had 
never  had  to  do  so  before.  Had  there  been  any  thing 
lacking  in  her  daily  life  ?  had  she  ever  felt  the  need  to 
lean  on  any  one  ?  had  she  ever  been  discontented,  or 
wanted  any  thing  fuller  or  more  complete?"  And 
promptly  came  the  answer,  "  No."  "  Was  she  dissatis- 
fied with  her  work  on  the  farm  ?  had  her  ambition  given 
out  ?  A  thousand  times  No  !  What  then  had  made  a 
change  ?  why  should  Dick's  words  ring  in  her  ears  ?  why 
should  she  remember  the  expression  of  his  face  ?  "  She 
thought  of  Airlie,  which  had  been  in  the  family  for  gen- 
erations. She  thought  of  her  mother,  whose  happiest 
days  had  been  spent  there.  Did  she  wish  to  bring  about 
any  change?  She  knew  that  the  custom  of  marriage 
forced  a  woman  to  give  up  home,  kindred,  work,  indi- 
viduality, every  thing,  and  follow  a  man  through  the 
wide  world,  no  matter  where  he  might  choose  to  pitch 
his  tent.  Could  she  do  it  ?  No  ;  her  duty  was  at  Airlie, 
her  work  was  on  the  farm,  her  duty  was  plain  ;  she  was 
her  father's  son.  Then  she  smiled  to  think  how  her 
thoughts  had  roamed.  She  was  happy  in  the  old  home. 
In  the  years  to  come  she  should  be  free  from  debt. 
There  was  no  question  of  marriage  with  any  one,  no 
thought  of  breaking  up  the  old  home  She  needed  no 
one,  no  aid.  She  certainly  would  not  marry  for  any 


408  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

such  reason.  She  felt  that  she  had  finally  reached  her 
conclusion.  She  said  to  herself  firmly  :  "  No,  Cousin 
Dick,  I  do  not  need  thee."  She  held  herself  erect  with 
a  quiet,  determined  look  upon  her  face  ;  then  her  ex- 
pression changed.  Her  answer  was  a  true  answer  so  far 
as  it  went,  but  suddenly  she  laid  her  head  down  upon 
her  arms,  and  above  all  her  questions  and  arguments 
rang  out  triumphantly  in  her  heart  the  truth.  She  could 
not  stifle  it,  nor  put  it  away,  nor  get  round  it  ;  she  must 
face  it,  as  she  had  told  herself  she  would  do,  honestly 
and  frankly  ;  she  loved  him  ! 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE    VILLAGE    WEDDING. 

COR  the  few  weeks  following  Robin's  self -questionings 
and  final  surrendering  to  herself,  she  went  about 
the  house  and  farm  with  a  light,  buoyant  step,  and  with 
eyes  that  lighted  up  with  joyous  smiles,  quickly  chan- 
ging to  deep,  tender  gravity.     Her  mother  noticed  the 
look  more  than  once  and  said  finally  : 
"  What  is  it,  daughter  ? " 
"  What  does  thee  mean,  mother  ?  " 
"  Thee  looks  as  if  thee  had  had  news  of  some  sort, 
tell  me  about  it." 

"  Well,  mother,  I  think  I  am  glad  to  see  the  spring 
come,  and  to  feel  the  new  life  which  comes  with  it,"  she 
replied. 

Dorothea  wondered  if  there  lurked  any  meaning  in 
her  words  more  than  met  the  ear,  but  the  daughter 
quietly  went  on  to  give  an  account  of  the  work  which 
had  already  begun  with  the  early  opening  of  the  spring. 
April  was  well  advanced,  the  ploughing  and  early  plant- 
ings were  in  progress,  and  the  young  farmer  had  her 

409 


410  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

hands  full.  She  felt  a  certain  confidence  in  herself 
which  hitherto  had  not  been  wholly  present.  She  had  a 
conviction  that  her  farming  had  passed  beyond  mere 
experiment  ;  she  had  gained  in  the  two  years  a  practical 
experience,  which,  added  to  her  own  natural  quick  judg- 
ment and  untiring  energy,  made  her  look  forward  hope- 
fully to  the  future  of  the  farm.  She  missed  Jared's 
efficient  work  on  the  place.  His  own  go-ahead  way  of 
accomplishing  things  had  relieved  her  of  a  good  deal  of 
responsibility,  which  now  rested  wholly  upon  her  own 
shoulders  ;  but  the  new  man  proved  very  capable  and 
intelligent,  and  the  girl  felt  that  never  had  a  season 
opened  'better,  never  had  Airlie  seemed  so  beautiful  as 
when  it  unfolded  day  by  day  its  soft,  leafy  foliage  ; 
never  had  the  carpet  of  violets  on  the  lawn  seemed  so 
blue,  never  had  the  young  chickens  seemed  so  downy  ; 
never  had  she  felt  the  beauty  of  the  world  as  to-day. 
Kane  remarked  to  her : 

"  'Deed,  Miss  Rob,  you  's  as  peart  and  live-li-like  as  a 
cricket." 

"  Who  would  n't  be  in  this  glorious  weather  ? "  she 
returned. 

Kane  propped  himself  on  his  stick  in  his  favorite  way 
and  eyed  her  suspiciously.  He  had  his  own  notions  of 
things. 

April  went  out  in  a  cloud  of  apple-blossoms  and  May 
was  ushered  in  with  roses  and  early  locust-bloom.  The 
old  trees  burst  into  a  perfect  wilderness  of  blossoms  long 
before  their  usual  time,  and  the  whole  lane  was  a  hang- 


THE   VILLAGE   WEDDING.  411 

ing-garden  of  white  scented  flowers.  Towards  the  end  of 
May,  when  the  weather  was  almost  oppressive  in  its  sum- 
mer-like heat,  Harmony  came  from  The  Hatch.  She  had 
been  over  frequently  to  consult  Dorothea  and  Robin 
about  the  preparations  for  her  wedding.  The  mysteries 
of  the  trousseau  had  been  attended  to  in  town,  but  the 
management  of  the  ceremonies  at  the  little  church  in 
Airlie  village,  the  getting  back  in  good  order  to  The 
Hatch  afterwards  for  the  big  gathering  and  the  wedding- 
breakfast,  of  which  the  whole  neighborhood  would  par- 
take, were  matters  which  Harmony  thought  needed  an 
older  head  and  better  executive  powers  than  she  pos- 
sessed. So  she  was  to  be  seen  driving  up  the  lane  at  all 
hours  of  the  day,  hitching  her  horse,  giving  a  call,  then 
waiting  to  be  answered  before  proceeding  to  the  garden, 
the  house,  or  the  barn,  as  the  case  might  be.  This 
special  morning  she  had  had  to  go  further  in  search  of 
her  chief  adviser,  who  had  not  responded  to  her  usual 
call.  She  bent  her  steps  to  the  dairy,  where  a  few  mo- 
ments later  the  two  girls  were  sitting  in  the  shade  of  the 
building,  one  on  the  milking-stool,  one  on  an  inverted 
stone  crock,  and  the  ever-fascinating,  all-absorbing  topic 
was  under  full  discussion. 

"Then  you  really  think,  Robin,  that  Miss  Deborah 
would  be  willing  to  come  and  take  charge  of  the  wedding- 
breakfast  ? " 

"I  am  sure  of  it,  Harmony.  Cousin  Deb  has  plenty 
of  time,  and  she  would  like  nothing  better." 

"  Well,  then,  that  is  settled,     Now,  about  your  gown  as 


412  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

bridesmaid,  Robin  ;  have  you  thought  about  it  yet  ?  You 
know  it  is  to  be  my  gift  to  you,  and  I  will  not  hearken  to 
any  refusal." 

"  Oh  !  Harmony,  dear,  do  you  really  want  me  ?  "  and 
she  looked  wistfully  into  her  friend's  eyes.  Then  she 
continued  :  "  Just  see  how  burned  and  tanned  I  am.  I 
shall  feel  as  I  stand  at  the  altar  of  the  little  church  like  a 
big  striped  yellow  and  black  tiger-lily  stuck  in  a  nosegay 
of  Puritan  roses." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Harmony,  "  you  will  be  lovely  if  you 
will  let  me  have  my  way.  You  shall  wear  soft,  white 
china  silk,  made  simple  and  plain,  and  a  large,  pictu- 
resque white  hat." 

"  Oh  !  Harmony,  not  a  hat  for  a  bridesmaid,  surely  ? " 

"  Yes,  a  hat,"  emphasized  Harmony,  who  had  just 
come  from  town,  and  who  kaew  of  what  she  was  talking. 
Robin  said  no  more  ;  she  felt  that  in  the  realms  of  fash- 
ion she  was  out  of  place. 

"  By  the  way,  Robin,  have  you  heard  when  your  cousin 
will  return  ?  Henry  and  I  are  waiting  anxiously  to 
know  ;  we  want  him  to  be  Henry's  best  man." 

"  No,  I  do  not  know.  Cousin  Dick  has  never  spoken 
of  returning  yet,"  she  gravely  answered. 

"  Well,  if  we  hear  nothing  in  another  week  Henry  will 
ask  his  cousin  to  come  down  from  New  York  to  take  his 
place,"  said  Harmony. 

"  Why  not  ask  Thaddy  to  serve  ? "  asked  Robin,  de- 
murely ;  then  both  of  them  laughed.  After  a  little  more 


THE   VILLAGE   WEDDING.  413 

talk  Harmony  took  her  leave,  Robin  accompanying  her 
as  far  as  the  house. 

The  wedding  was  set  for  the  twentieth  of  June.  It 
was  made  as  late  in  the  month  as  was  possible  in  the  hope 
that  Dick  would  be  able  to  get  in  from  the  West  in  time  ; 
and  it  could  not  well  be  left  later  than  that  date,  for  the 
harvest  would  be  drawing  on  and  every  one  in  the  neigh- 
borhood would  be  too  busy  to  think  of  festivities. 
Dick  finally  wrote  Standish  that,  having  due  regard  to 
the  plans  of  his  party,  it  was  uncertain  about  his  reach- 
ing the  neighborhood  in  time  for  the  wedding,  and  that 
they  had  better  not  count  upon  him.  So  Standish's 
cousin  was  pressed  into  service,  and  all  preparations 
were  now  complete.  Nearly  the  whole  neighborhood 
was  asked  to  The  Hatch,  but  only  a  few  of  the  nearest 
friends  were  asked  to  go  to  the  church.  Every  one 
had  been  deploring  the  marriage  of  Captain  Esten's 
only  daughter.  They  liked  Standish  well  enough,  but  he 
was  an  outsider,  while  they  had  grown  to  look  upon  Har- 
mony as  one  of  themselves.  When  it  was  learned  that 
the  young  couple  were  to  return  to  The  Hatch  after 
a  brief  wedding-journey,  and  that  they  would  spend  most 
of  their  time  in  the  future  in  the  neighborhood,  the 
feeling  changed  towards  Standish  :  after  all,  he  was  not 
such  a  bad  sort  of  fellow,  and  they  prepared  to  enter 
into  the  wedding  festivities  with  zest.  They  showed  the 
most  open  and  honest  curiosity  concerning  all  that  was 
going  on  at  The  Hatch,  and  many  were  the  speculations 


4J4  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

as  to  whether  Thaddy  Watkins  would  be  present.  From 
the  tragic  airs  he  had  given  himself  all  during  the  winter, 
one  might  have  supposed  that  he  had  been  a  favored  suitor,' 
thrown  over  at  the  last  moment,  instead  of  having  been  a 
mere  dangler,  who  never  had  any  chance  whatever,  and 
who  knew  it.  But  it  pleased  him  to  pose  as  an  injured, 
blighted  being.  When  Harmony  was  once  married,  he 
would  undoubtedly  lose  no  time  in  paying  his  devotions 
at  the  next  vacant  shrine.  So  the  neighborhood  laughed 
and  gossiped. 

When  the  wedding-day  was  at  hand  several  of  the  young 
people  transformed  the  vine-covered  village  church  into  a 
perfect  bower,  and  every  thing  was  ready  for  the  morrow. 
That  evening  Robin  had  a  fancy  for  going  in  person  to  the 
village  for  the  mail.  As  soon  as  she  heard  the  stage  horn 
she  started  across  the  field  towards  Airlie.  Presently 
Dorothea  saw  her  leisurely  sauntering  back  up  the  lane 
in  the  twilight,  with  the  daily  paper  swinging  carelessly 
in  her  hand. 

"  No  letter  from  Richard,  daughter  ?  " 
"  No,  mother,  none." 

"  I  had  hoped  he  would  get  here  for  the  wedding  to- 
morrow. Did  thee  think  to  ask  whether  any  one  came 
in  the  stage  as  far  as  I  van  wold  ? " 

There  was  a  faint  confusion  and  slight  hesitancy  in 
Robin's  manner  for  a  moment,  as  if  she  were  loath  that 
even  her  mother  should  know  that  she  had  any  undue  in- 
terest in  her  cousin's  arrival  ;  so  she  answered  hesitat- 


THE   VILLAGE   WEDDING.  415 

ingly  :  "  I  inquired  of  the  driver  if  any  one  came  ;  he 
said  not." 

The  next  day  dawned  bright  and  clear.  The  ceremony 
was  to  be  at  mid-day,  and  as  the  bridal  procession  would 
have  to  pass  Airlie  on  its  way  from  The  Hatch,  it  had 
been  decided  that  Robin  and  Dorothea  should  join  it  at 
the  gate.  Kane  was  to  drive  the  two  women  in  the  old 
family  carriage,  which  was  so  little  used  nowadays  and 
was  so  rusty  and  dilapidated.  When  Robin  was  dressing 
she  thought  how  out  of  keeping  with  her  daily  life  the 
dainty  finery  was.  It  would  have  its  brief  day,  then  be 
laid  away,  and  in  a  week's  time  no  one  who  saw  her  in 
the  harvest-field  would  think  she  could  be  the  same 
woman.  When  she  was  ready,  even  to  the  drawing  on 
of  the  long  gloves,  she  hastened  down  to  her  mother, 
who  had  been  waiting  for  a  half  hour  or  more.  As  she 
came  before  her  she  said  : 

"  Mother,  I  should  so  like  to  look  like  other  women  to- 
day ;  I  should  like  to  feel  that  I  belong  to  the  rest  of  the 
world,  that  for  once  I  am "  She  paused. 

"  What,  daughter  ? " 

"  Pretty,"  she  said  anxiously.  "What  does  thee  hon- 
estly think,  mother  ?  " 

"I  think  thee  is  a  right  fair  sight  for  any  eyes, 
daughter." 

But  there  was  something  unsatisfactory  to  Robin  in  her 
mother's  old-fashioned  words  of  praise.  She  felt  that  she 
was  dressed  in  an  unusual  way,  that  she  was  wearing 


416  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

beautiful  things,  and  she  longed  suddenly  for  words  in 
keeping  with  her  gown,  and  her  youth  :  words  which 
might  be  uttered  with  a  meaning  in  them,  a  tenderness, 
a  love,  that  was  not  mother-love.  Then  she  rebuked 
herself  for  her  wayward,  unseemly  thoughts.  Kane  now 
signalled  from  the  stepping-stone  that  the  carriages  were 
in  sight  on  the  turnpike.  The  two  women  hastened  to 
the  carriage  and  were  rapidly  driven  to  the  gate,  where 
they  waited  to  fall  into  line  behind  the  bridal  party. 
Thus  they  moved  rapidly  through  Airlie  village,  and  it 
seemed  when  they  reached  the  shady  churchyard  that  all 
the  villagers  were  there  assembled  to  see  the  bride  go  by. 
Henry  Standish  and  his  cousin  were  awaiting  the  party 
at  the  altar.  Soon  the  little  procession  moved  up  the 
aisle,  Robin  walking  alone,  followed  by  Harmony  upon 
her  father's  arm.  The  people  had  closed  in  densely 
about  the  doors,  and  the  little  porch  was  crowded  with 
eager  heads  trying  to  catch  a  glimpse  within. 

When  the  solemn  words  of  the  service  were  half-over 
there  was  a  slight  stir  at  the  door.  It  was  a  late  comer, 
who,  finding  it  would  make  a  disturbance  to  force  a  way 
through  the  crowded  porch,  fell  back  to  the  shade  of  the 
trees.  In  a  few  moments  a  hasty  movement  in  the  crowd 
indicated  that  the  benediction  had  been  pronounced — 
the  wedding  was  over.  Soon  Harmony  appeared  smiling 
and  nodding  to  the  familiar  faces  of  the  villagers,  who 
admiringly  fell  back  before  Standish  and  herself.  In  a 
moment  behind  them  Robin  appeared  with  Standish's 


THE  VILLAGE   WEDDING.  417 

cousin  at  her  side.  She  too  smiled  and  nodded  to  the 
well-known  faces  about  her.  She  paused  in  the  little 
porch  to  await  the  carriage  and  buried  her  face  for  a 
moment  in  the  flowers  she  held  in  her  hand  ;  then  she 
was  quickly  driven  away.  The  usual  bustle  and  con- 
fusion of  getting  into  the  right  carriages  began.  The 
crowd  held  back  a  little  for  the  bridal  party  to  get  off  ; 
then  the  stream  of  people  poured  out  of  the  church  and 
hurried  away. 

It  had  been  arranged  that  Dorothea  should  part  com- 
pany with  her  daughter  when  the  return  to  The  Hatch 
set  in  from  the  church.  So  she  drove  away  alone  in  the 
old  carriage.  The  villagers  began  to  file  out  of  the 
churchyard,  and  among  the  last  to  leave  was  Deborah, 
who  had  waited  to  gather  up  some  of  the  flowers  from 
the  chancel-rail.  As  she  approached  the  light  wagon 
which  was  ready  to  take  her  back  to  The  Hatch  and 
which  already  held  several  people,  some  one  stepped  out 
from  the  background  of  trees. 

"  Let  me  help  you,  Deborah." 

She  turned  in  amazement  and  exclaimed  in  a  loud, 
startled  voice  : 

"  Mercy  alive  !  where  did  thee  come  from,  Dick 
Elgar  ? "  She  let  drop  the  garlands  she  had  held  in  her 
arms,  put  her  hands  on  Dick's  shoulders,  her  face  beam- 
ing with  satisfaction,  and  poured  upon  him  a  perfect 
stream  of  questions:  "When  did  thee  come?  why 
did  n't  thee  get  here  in  time  for  the  wedding?  Has 
27 


4i 8  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

thee  spoken  with  any  one  ?  Did  thee  see  Dorothea  and 
Robin  ?  and  where  is  thee  going  now  ? " 

Meantime  those  in  the  wagon  were  watching  and  lis- 
tening with  ill-concealed  curiosity.  Dick  noticed  it, 
and  finding  it  impossible  to  reply  to  Deborah's  flood  of 
eager  questions,  said  in  a  low  tone  :  "  I  will  follow  you 
immediately  to  The  Hatch  and  answer  all  your  questions 
there."  He  helped  her  quickly  and  without  more  ado 
into  the  wagon,  restored  the  flowers  to  her  and  lifted  his 
hat ;  and  there  came  floating  back  to  him.  as  the  carriage 
drove  off,  an  energetic 

"  Well,  I  never  !  "  from  Deborah. 

Dick  was  left  in  almost  sole  possession  of  the  church- 
yard. He  felt  irritated  at  the  chain  of  circumstances 
which  had  left  him  stranded  here,  too  late  for  every  thing. 
He  had  been  unfortunate  all  around.  He  had  missed 
his  trains  at  almost  every  point  since  he  had  started 
home.  Instead  of  arriving  the  morning  previous,  or  at 
latest  the  night  before,  and  coming  to  the  wedding  with 
the  rest,  like  a  Christian,  he  had  reached  Ivanwold  only 
that  morning  to  find  Deborah  gone  to  The  Hatch  and  no 
one  on  the  whole  place  knowing  exactly  what  the  hour 
of  the  wedding  was  to  be  ;  there  was  only  a  hazy  idea 
that  it  was  to  be  some  time  between  eleven  and  one  at  the 
Airlie  church,  which  was  a  good  five  or  six  miles  off. 
He  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  n't  try  to  go  at  all. 
He  had  been  travelling  day  and  night  ;  he  was  tired  and 
hungry  ;  he  would  be  a  fool  to  go  hurrying  off  up  there 


THE   VILLAGE   WEDDING. 


419 


at  this  late  hour.  Having  made  up  his  mind  that  he 
would  turn  in  for  several  hours  and  sleep,  he  proceeded 
to  carry  out  this  sensible  plan  by  jerking  the  bell 
violently,  and  upon  the  appearance  of  a  maid,  calling 
out  sharply  : 

"  If  there  's  any  thing  in  the  house,  get  me  some 
breakfast,  immediately.  Send  some  one  to  me  to  hunt 
out  my  things,  and  order  the  cart  to  be  brought  round 
at  once." 

In  a  short  time  he  had  made  a  hasty  toilet,  a  still  more 
hasty  breakfast,  and  was  swinging  over  the  road  at  a 
rattling  pace,  to  arrive  at  the  little  church  just  in  time  to 
stand  back  out  of  sight  among  the  villagers  and  see  the 
bride  come  out  radiant  and  happy  ;  to  see  Standish  with 
a  look  of  proud  possession  put  her  tenderly  into  the  car- 
riage ;  to  see  his  cousin  in  soft  gown  and  picturesque 
hat,  lovely  beyond  what  his  mind  had  been  fancying  her, 
appear  upon  the  arm  of  a  stranger,  stand  a  moment  in 
the  little  porch,  with  a  bunch  of  flowers  held  close  to  her 
face  and  a  dreamy  light  in  her  eyes,  and  await  the  car- 
riage which  soon  bore  her  quickly  away.  After  that  he 
had  a  vague  idea  of  seeing  his  aunt  also  leave  the  church- 
porch,  and  not  till  the  place  was  nearly  deserted  and 
Deborah  came  out  prepared  to  go,  had  he  collected 
himself  sufficiently  to  come  forward  and  make  his 
presence  known  to  her.  When  she  too  was  gone  there 
was  nothing  left  for  him  but  either  to  go  home  to  Ivan- 
wold,  or  to  go  to  The  Hatch  in  pursuit  of  the  wedding- 


42O  GILBERT   ELGAR  S   SON. 

party,  which  perhaps  he  might  overtake  somewhere 
before  the  day  was  over  if  he  had  good  luck.  He  drove 
leisurely  back  over  the  road  he  had  just  traversed  in 
such  haste.  He  glanced  up  the  Airlie  lane  as  he 
passed  by  and  wondered  what  sort  of  a  greeting  from 
his  cousin  was  in  store  for  him  ;  or  would  it  be  his  fate 
upon  reaching  The  Hatch  to  fall  immediately  into  the 
hands  of  all  the  good  old  Friends  in  the  neighborhood 
and  be  obliged  to  tell  each  and  all  over  and  over  just 
when  he  came,  why  he  came  so  late,  what  detained  him, 
and  so  on  endlessly,  until  his  cousin  would  perhaps  be 
borne  off  and  surrounded  by  others,  and  he  would  get 
no  speech  with  her  ?  which  would  be  a  last  and  final 
calamity,  adding  a  fresh  link  to  an  already  long  chain  of 
delays  and  mishaps  that  had  pursued  him  relentlessly 
ever  since  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  cut  short  his 
field  work  and  hurry  home  to  Standish's  wedding. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

CONFESSION. 

A  LL  the  way  to  The  Hatch  Deborah  was  pondering 
over  the  astonishing  and  unexpected  appearance  of 
Dick  in  the  churchyard.  Why  on  earth  should  he  have 
waited  until  the  very  last  moment  to  reach  home  ?  and 
why  had  he  not  let  some  one  know  he  was  coming? 
Clearly,  from  the  expression  of  his  face,  he  was  irritated 
and  put  out,  but  there  was  no  one  to  blame  but  himself. 
She  hurried  the  driver  of  the  wagon  ;  she  was  anxious  to 
reach  The  Hatch  and  be  the  first  to  tell  of  his  arrival. 
Then  she  suddenly  made  up  her  mind  that  she  would  say 
nothing  about  it  ;  she  would  let  Dick  speak  for  himself, 
she  had  a  pretty  shrewd  idea  that  he  meant  to  speak.  She 
would  let  him  come  upon  Robin  unawares  ;  she  would 
not  prevent  any  possible  advantage  which  might  come  to 
him  from  taking  his  cousin  off  her  guard.  Even  Dorothea 
should  not  be  told  of  his  coming  ;  she  alone  would  know 
it,  and  be  on  the  watch  for  the  meeting  of  the  cousins. 
Thinking  thus,  Deborah  became  very  impatient  to  reach 
her  destination,  She  feared  every  moment  to  see  Dick's 

421 


422  GILBERT   ELGAR  S   SON. 

high  cart  go  flashing  by  on  the  road  and  thus  spoil  her 
anticipated  little  scene.  Alas  !  Deborah  was  doomed  to 
disappointment  ;  she  had  hardly  landed  before  the  door 
of  The  Hatch  when  she  was  greeted  with  the  doleful  tid- 
ings from  one  of  the  domestics,  that  while  they  were  all 
at  church  the  hounds  had  somehow  got  out  of  their 
kennels,  made  their  way  into  the  milk-house,  and  eaten 
up  a  third  of  the  salad.  This  was  calamity  !  Two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  people  at  the  very  doors  of  The  Hatch 
and  a  third  of  the  salad  gone  !  All  thought  of  a  tender 
meeting  and  a  possible  settlement  of  affairs  between  the 
cousins  was  swept  from  Deborah's  mind.  She  dropped 
the  garlands  and  flowers  she  had  so  carefully  brought 
from  the  church,  and  with  a  wild  rush  disappeared  to  the 
scene  of  the  disaster. 

Meanwhile  every  road  and  lane  which  led  to  The 
Hatch  had  a  stream  of  approaching  guests.  Every  sort 
of  vehicle  laden  to  its  fullest  drew  up  to  the  steps,  until 
the  spacious  old  house  was  overflowing  with  young  and 
old,  all  bent  on  kissing  the  bride  and  doing  justice  to  the 
good  cheer  which  would  be  forthcoming.  The  porch 
and  the  lawn  were  soon  full  of  groups  of  people  who  had 
strayed  from  the  crowded  house  to  the  cool  shade  out- 
side. Captain  Esten  wandered  untiringly  from  one  to 
another,  shaking  hands  and  making  every  one  welcome. 
In  the  wide  double  parlor  the  bridal  party  stood  receiv- 
ing the  comers  and  exchanging  greetings  with  all.  In 
vain  had  Harmony  tried  to  keep  her  father  at  her  side. 


CONFESSION.  423 

but  he  said  it  was  not  his  idea  of  hospitality  to  stand  for 
hours  in  one  spot  and  let  people  hunt  for  him ;  he  pre- 
ferred to  do  the  hunting  himself. 

Robin  had  found  it  rather  hard  work  to  talk  to  the  man 
at  her  side,  who  stood  looking  about  him,  half-amused  by 
the  scene,  half-surprised  at  the  people,  now  and  then 
putting  up  an  eyeglass  to  take  in  the  surroundings  more 
fully.  He  in  turn  had  not  known  what  to  say  to  the  un- 
usually grave  woman  whom  he  saw  for  the  first  time  that 
morning  at  the  altar.  He  had  an  idea  when  he  left  New 
York  that  he  was  going  to  the  backwoods,  that  he  should 
no  doubt  encounter  the  natives.  It  would  be  a  bore, 
but  one  could  not  leave  a  cousin  in  the  lurch,  even  if  he 
were  fool  enough  to  marry  a  country  girl,  in  a  country 
church,  with  the  service  read  by  a  country  parson. 
Therefore  the  whole  day  so  far  had  been  one  of  sur- 
prises to  him.  In  the  first  place,  the  new  cousin  herself 
was  almost  charming  enough  to  excuse  the  folly  Standish 
had  committed.  Then  The  Hatch  was  picturesque  and 
quaint  beyond  what  he  had  fancied  a  Maryland  farm- 
house could  possibly  be  ;  it  was  quite  manorial  with  its 
big  pillars  and  wide  porch.  Certainly  the  tall,  handsome 
bridesmaid,  dressed  in  perfect  fashion,  was  something 
even  to  make  a  club  man  turn  out  of  his  way  to  look  at, 
and  he  wondered  what  manner  of  people  he  had  fallen 
among.  But  somehow  conversation  was  rather  difficult 
with  this  same  imposing  young  woman,  who  alternately 
said  "  thee  "  to  the  sweet-faced  plain  Friends  and  "  you  " 


424  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

to  most  of  the  others.  He  thought  he  would  stay  a  day 
or  two  with  Captain  Esten  after  the  wedding  was  over, 
and  learn  something  about  these  people  who  were  such  a 
mixture  of  simplicity  and  culture.  Had  he  known  that 
the  girl  at  his  side  was  a  farmer,  that  she  worked  in  the 
fields  with  her  men,  that  she  had  never  spent  a  season  in 
town,  had  never  seen  a  german,  or  a  horse-race,  had 
never  been  to  Newport,  nor  heard  of  Tuxedo,  and  was  in 
total  ignorance  of  the  general  radiance  and  glory  which 
the  Gotham  world  unselfishly  sheds  upon  every  thing,  he 
would  not  have  believed  it  possible  that  the  State  of 
Maryland,  unaided,  could  produce  such  a  being  in  this 
enlightened  nineteenth  century  ;  he  would  have  turned 
the  full  stare  of  his  eyeglass  upon  her  in  amazement. 
But  he  did  not  know  this.  He  could  not  make  out  what 
type  of  young  woman  she  was,  and  the  conversation, 
which  was  spasmodic  and  trying  to  both  of  them,  sud- 
denly took  a  turn  for  the  better.  Some  mention  was 
made  of  horses.  Instantly  Robin  felt  that  she  had  a  topic 
upon  which  they  might  meet  on  common  ground.  She 
told  him  of  their  hunts.  He  asked  in  surprise  if  it 
were  possible  that  Quakers  ever  hunted.  She  in  turn 
laughingly  told  him  that  her  grandfather  had  not  only  been 
a  preacher  in  Friends'  Meeting  but  also  one  of  the  most 
daring,  reckless  fox-hunters  in  all  the  State  ;  that  he  had 
often  hunted  continuously  for  three  days  at  a  time,  night 
as  well  as  day  ;  that  her  own  father  had  owned  a  famous 
pack  of  hounds,  and  that  she  herself  was  fond  of  the 
sport. 


CONFESSION. 


425 


It  seemed  to  the  worldly  Gothamite  that  the  country 
wedding  was  revealing  most  refreshing  and  unexpected 
novelties.  He  smiled  at  the  wide  disparity  between  the 
cut-and-dried  notion  which  the  world  entertains  of  the 
Quakers  and  the  glimpse  which  the  girl  at  his  side  had 
just  given  him.  Verily,  he  said  to  himself,  the  followers 
of  George  Fox  no  longer  believe  in  meekly-folded  hands 
and  downcast  eyes.  Decidedly,  he  would  stay  and  in- 
vestigate this  community.  From  that  time  on  Standish's 
cousin  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  topics  of  conversation. 
The  bored  air,  which  had  been  so  manifest  a  little  while 
before,  vanished.  Not  for  a  moment  did  he  turn  away 
from  the  companion  who  had  been  till  now  so  unap- 
proachable. But  an  interruption  came  only  too  soon, 
and  it  was  almost  with  a  sense  of  irritation  to  him  that  a 
move  of  the  bridal  party  to  the  dining-room  took  place. 

Meanwhile  Dick  drove  very  slowly  towards  The 
Hatch.  He  even  went  a  little  out  of  his  way  to  postpone 
the  time  of  his  arrival.  He  had  been  in  a  hurry  ever 
since  he  had  turned  homewards  from  the  West,  and  had 
missed  connection  at  every  point.  He  had  reached 
Ivanwold  to  find  no  one  there.  He  had  been  in  hot 
haste  to  get  to  the  church,  and  arrived  there  only  to  see 
the  outside  of  the  building  and  the  stalwart  backs  of 
the  villagers  turned  to  him.  Now  he  felt  that  it  would 
make  no  difference  at  what  hour  he  reached  Captain 
Esten's.  He  hoped  the  guests  would  be  so  completely 
absorbed  with  the  wedding-feast  that  his  arrival  would 
be  unnoticed,  that  he  would  escape  unquestioned.  Great 


426  GILBERT   ELGAR'S   SON. 

was  his  chagrin,  therefore,  to  come  within  sight  of  the 
place  and  find  the  shady  lawn  a  perfect  fete  in  appear- 
ance. Small  tables  were  dotted  about  under  the  trees. 
Groups  of  idle,  good-natured  people  were  busily  engaged 
in  doing  justice  to  the  wedding-breakfast,  but  not  one 
of  them  was  so  absorbed  as  to  be  oblivious  of  the  ap- 
proaching cart  and  its  occupant.  Dick  took  in  the 
situation  at  a  glance.  He  drew  in  his  horse,  handed 
over  the  reins,  sprang  down,  and  said  to  himself  under 
his  breath  :  "  By  George  !  I  'm  in  for  it." 

Some  one  exclaimed  :  "  Why,  it  is  Dick  Elgar." 
Then  the  very  thing  he  had  been  picturing  dismally  to 
himself  took  place.  One  after  another  rose  up  from  the 
different  groups  to  grasp  his  hand  and  ask  the  inevitable 
questions.  As  his  eye  ran  over  the  crowd  it  was  a  relief 
to  see  none  of  the  bridal  party,  but  he  realized  with  a 
sense  of  irritation  that  before  he  could  reach  the  porch 
there  was  a  perfect  gauntlet  of  questions  and  handshakes 
to  be  run.  He  boldly  advanced,  as  if  to  get  through  with 
it.  Holding  his  hat  in  one  hand  and  extending  the 
other,  he  began  his  progress  to  the  house,  alternately 
passing  from  the  shade  of  the  trees  into  bright  patches 
of  sunlight,  which  fell  upon  his  uncovered  head,  bronzed 
face,  and  strong  muscular  figure.  His  greeting  to  every 
one  was  cordial  and  pleasant ;  it  betrayed  no  inward  un- 
willingness. His  face  wore  a  slight  smile,  but  there  was 
a  tension  about  the  eyes,  a  restlessness  and  sternness 
which  did  not  belong  to  them  properly.  It  might  be 


CONFESSION.  427 

Only  the  vexat:on  of  the  delays  he  had  encountered,  and 
the  fatigue  of  the  long  journey,  but  this  unusual  ex- 
pression, so  different  from  the  frank,  sunny  look  habitual 
to  him,  did  not  pass  unnoticed.  He  was  certainly  a  very 
striking  man,  and  more  than  one  turned  a  second  time 
to  look  at  the  well-knit,  powerful  figure,  the  clearly-cut 
features,  and  strong  face  as  he  passed. 

Dick  made  his  way  but  slowly  across  the  lawn,  for  he 
encountered  a  friendly  face  at  every  step.  He  came 
upon  Evan  Massie,  and  also  upon  Thaddy  Watkins,  who 
stood  leaning  against  a  tree,  the  very  picture  of  discon- 
solate woe.  Dick  could  not  repress  a  smile  as  he  saw 
Thaddy,  and  involuntarily  there  escaped  him  : 

"  You  here,  Watkins  ?  " 

"  An'  why  not,  in  the  name  of  thun'er  ?  "  Thaddy  an- 
swered fiercely  ;  then  unbending  a  little,  he  put  out  his 
hand,  and  said  :  "  Did  n'  know  you  were  in  this  part  of 
the  worl'.  Seen  any  of  'em  ?  They  're  all  in  yon'er  in 
the  dinin'-room ;  an'  I  tell  you,  Elgar,  a  weddin'  's  all  dam' 
nonsense,"  he  suddenly  wound  up. 

"  Depends  on  whose  wedding  it  is,"  replied  Dick, 
dryly,  and  prepared  to  move  on  ;  but  Thaddy  detained 
him  to  pour  out  a  long  tirade  on  the  stupidity  of  the 
neighborhood  and  of  the  country  generally,  till  Dick  said 
impatiently  : 

"  See  here,  Watkins,  I  must  move  on  ;  I  have  n't 
spoken  to  the  bride  yet." 

Thaddy  fell  back,  and  Dick   hurried   forward;   this 


428  GILBERT   ELGAR*S   SON. 

time  to  be  stopped  by  Captain  Esten  himself,  who  had 
just  emerged  from  the  house  and  caught  sight  of  him. 
He  was  at  his  side  instantly,  saying  heartily  : 

"  God  bless  my  soul  !  Dick  Elgar,  why  did  n't  you 
get  here  sooner  ?  " 

Then  the  same  explanation  of  detentions  and  mishaps 
had  to  be  gone  over  to  the  Captain.  As  they  talked 
they  moved  slowly  up  the  steps  and  across  the  porch. 
At  the  very  threshold  of  the  house  the  Captain  paused 
and  entered  upon  a  long  account  of  how  the  hounds 
that  very  morning  had  eaten  up  the  salad  while  they 
were  all  at  church.  Dick  listened  with  only  half  an  ear, 
and  in  the  very  midst  of  the  Captain's  tale  he  suddenly 
muttered  some  excuse,  left  his  side,  and  strode  into  the 
hall,  paying  no  heed  to  those  whom  he  met,  and  who 
stood  aside  as  he  hurried  past  them.  The  tones  of  a 
voice  had  fallen  upon  his  ears,  and  taking  matters  into 
his  own  hands  he  broke  from  the  Captain,  to  follow 
where  it  led.  The  Captain  stood  in  the  doorway  in 
open-eyed  wonder  at  the  sudden  and  not  very  polite 
move  of  his  companion.  He  looked  after  the  retreating 
figure,  and  before  it  reached  the  bend  in  the  hall  which 
led  to  the  dining-room  he  saw  Dick  pause  a  moment, 
straighten  himself,  compress  his  lips  slightly,  then  care- 
lessly walk  on  and  disappear. 

When  Dick  turned  the  bend  in  the  hall  he  came  upon 
Harmony  and  Standish,  who  were  just  coming  from  the 
dining-room,  beyond  which  there  was  a  glimpse  through 


CONFESSION.  429 

the  open  door  of  the  rest  of  the  bridal  party.  Their  ex- 
clamations of  surprise  and  delight  were  many,  and  for  a 
few  moments  there  was  a  confusion  of  congratulations, 
good  wishes,  and  light,  bantering  words.  Robin  stood 
with  her  back  to  the  door,  facing  Standish's  cousin,  who 
had  never  left  her  side  for  a  moment,  and  who  was  talk- 
ing animatedly  to  her  as  he  leaned  on  the  back  of  a 
chair.  When  the  first  exclamations  of  surprise  from 
those  at  the  door  fell  upon  her  ear,  and  were  followed 
by  the  repetition  of  her  cousin's  name,  uttered  by  every 
voice  in  a  different  key,  she  stood  perfectly  rigid.  She 
did  not  hear  the  remarks  of  her  companion.  A  deep 
flush  slowly  spread  over  her  face  and  neck  ;  there  was 
an  instant  when  her  lips  trembled.  If  she  turned  ever 
so  slightly  she  would  face  her  cousin  ;  she  could  hear  his 
clear,  pleasant  voice  lightly  bantering  Standish.  She 
must  welcome  him.  She  turned  slowly  towards  the  door 
and  saw  his  bronzed  and  slightly  worn  face,  found  his 
gaze  bent  upon  her,  and  caught  the  deep  intensity  of  his 
eyes.  For  a  moment  she  faced  him,  fearlessly  returned 
his  glance,  and  gave  him  back  the  answer  she  had  car- 
ried so  long  in  her  heart  ;  then  her  eyes  dropped,  the 
flush  died  out  of  her  face,  leaving  her  pale  and  quiet. 
Dick  had  seen  her  turn  towards  him  ;  he  had  seen  and 
read  the  look  which  leaped  to  her  eyes  in  answer 
to  his  own,  and  when  she  dropped  them  he  hurried 
forward  to  her  side,  a  perfect  tumult  raging  within, 
but  outwardly  cool.  He  shook  hands,  made  a  conven- 


430  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

tional  remark  or  two,  and  was  introduced  to  Standish's 
cousin,  who  had  not  been  blind  to  the  changes  of  ex- 
pression which  had  swept  over  his  companion's  face  ;  but 
he  had  not  seen  the  look  in  her  eyes  which  was  causing 
Dick  the  hardest  moments  of  struggle  for  self-control 
that  he  had  ever  been  called  upon  to  endure. 

The  conversation  for  a  time  was  difficult.  Robin 
felt  shaken,  almost  stunned  ;  something  had  hap- 
pened which  she  could  never  undo,  and  for  a  moment 
there  was  a  wave  of  hot  rebellion.  She  felt  like  a 
young  soldier  who  has  been  surprised  beyond  the 
picket  lines,  who  has  just  surrendered  his  musket 
and  stands  defenceless  in  the  presence  of  the  enemy. 
She  stole  a  quick  glance  at  Dick,  who  stood  before  her 
so  quiet  and  composed.  There  was  nothing  of  the  con- 
queror in  his  manner.  He  even  refrained  from  looking 
at  her,  and  addressed  himself  to  her  companion.  The 
sudden  feeling  of  rebellion  and  unrest  which  had 
swept  over  her  when  she  feared  she  had  laid  down  her 
arms  too  suddenly  was  quelled  ;  the  peace  and  happi- 
ness of  his  presence  stole  over  her  and  was  unspeakable. 
Dick  himself,  though  talking  so  quietly,  felt  every  throb 
of  his  heart,  every  pulsation  to  his  finger-tips.  It  was 
almost  more  than  he  could  do  to  stand  unmoved  and 
talk  of  casual  things  when  the  memory  of  her  eyes  was 
thrilling  him  through  and  through.  He  hesitated 
how  to  proceed.  He  had  seen  the  signal  of  dis- 
tress in  his  cousin's  manner  when  he  reached  her  side, 


CONFESSION. 

and  he  forebore  to  press  his  advantage.  What  course 
should  he  now  pursue  ?  Should  he  woo  her  gently  to 
further  and  fuller  love  ?  or  should  he  boldly  seize  upon 
his  happiness  and  give  her  no  time  to  deny  what  her 
eyes  had  spoken  ?  But  there  was  no  opportunity  even 
for  speech  at  present,  nor  could  he  win  another  look 
from  her.  He  must  wait.  A  moment  later  Robin  was 
called.  The  going-away  time  had  arrived,  and  Harmony 
needed  her  offices.  Both  men  walked  with  her  to  the 
foot  of  the  stairs.  Standish's  cousin  said,  just  as  she 
was  about  to  leave  them  : 

"  Do  not  forget,  Miss  Elgar,  you  have  promised  to 
show  me  the  kennels  when  the  Standishes  get  off." 

Was  it  possible,  she  asked  herself,  that  she  had  made 
any  such  promise?  but  she  replied,  "  I  will  not  forget." 
Then  Dick  laid  his  hand  on  the  baluster  and  asked  : 
"  Where  is  Aunt  Dorothea  ?  " 

She  stood  two  or  three  steps  above  him,  and  as  he 
asked  the  question  she  was  compelled  to  look  down  into 
his  upturned  eyes.  There  was  such  a  depth  of  love  and 
tenderness  in  them  that  for  a  moment  she  stood  en- 
thralled. Then  she  remembered  his  question.  She  re- 
membered also  that  Standish's  cousin  was  looking  on. 
She  gathered  her  wits  and  said  lightly : 

"  Oh,  mother  went  off  some  time  ago  to  help  Cousin 
Deborah,"  and  she  sped  up  the  stairs  without  a  backward 
glance. 

Dick  turned  and  caught  a  quick,  puzzled  look  on  the 


432  GILBERT    ELGAR  S    SON. 

other  man's  face.  Then  they  commenced  some  trivial 
conversation  and  walked  towards  the  open  door,  where 
Standish  stood  watching  the  bestowal  of  the  luggage 
which  was  ready  to  be  sent  ahead. 

At  this  point  Deborah'  came  through  the  hall  and  bore 
down  upon  him.  She  was  followed  slowly  by  Dorothea, 
whose  step  was  always  uncertain.  The  meeting  of  the 
three  was  a  warm  one.  In  a  few  minutes  Dick  and 
his  aunt  had  seated  themselves  a  little  apart  and  were 
talking  earnestly.  The  departure  of  the  guests  had 
set  in  some  little  time  before,  and  now  only  a  few  re- 
mained for  the  final  lea/e-taking  of  the  bridal  party. 
When  Harmony  and  Robin  came  down-stairs  again  the 
afternoon  was  advanced  and  The  Hatch  had  undergone 
a  change.  The  tables  on  the  lawn  had  disappeared. 
The  Captain,  with  only  a  small  group  about  him,  stood 
ready  to  speed  the  parting  bride.  There  were  tears  in 
Robin's  eyes  as  she  thought  how  hard  it  must  be  for  this 
motherless  girl  to  leave  her  home.  But  the  Captain  was 
no  encourager  of  tears,  so  the  only  ones  shed  were  those 
in  her  eyes,  and  a  few  which  Standish  wiped  from  Har- 
mony's cheek  after  they  had  driven  away. 

The  party  left  on  the  lawn  was  a  silent  one.  The 
Captain  watched  the  receding  carriage  till  it  was  lost  to 
view,  and  there  was  a  suspicious  trembling  of  his  lips 
when  he  at  last  turned  ;  but  there  was  no  tremble  in  his 
voice  ;  he  said  heartily  : 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  how  the  rest  of  you  feel,  but  in 


CONFESSION. 


433 


spite  of  the  wedding-breakfast  I  have  n't  had  a  good  square 
meal  to-day.  Miss  Deborah,  have  you  got  any  thing  left  ? " 
This  confession  of  the  Captain's  produced  a  light 
laugh,  and  also  a  like  confession  from  several  of  the 
others.  So  the  entire  party  adjourned  to  the  dining- 
room,  where  a  substantial  luncheon  was  soon  in  progress. 
Dick  seated  himself  beside  his  cousin.  He  had  seen  the 
tears  in  her  eyes  when  Harmony  had  driven  away.  He 
felt  that  he  understood  them  and  the  mood  which  called 
them  forth.  They  had  been  partly  shed  for  the  depart- 
ing bride,  but  they  had  also  been  shed  for  herself.  She 
had  suddenly  realized  away  in  the  background  of  her 
thoughts  what  it  would  mean  to  leave  her  mother,  her 
home,  and  go  forth  in  like  manner.  He  turned  suddenly 
and  looked  at  her.  She  still  wore1  the  picturesque 
hat  she  had  worn  to  the  church  in  the  morning. 
Dick  could  not  see  her  eyes  as  she  drooped  her  head, 
but  he  could  see  the  outline  of  her  cheek,  the  full  curve 
of  the  lips,  and  the  sheen  of  her  hair,  drawn  back  in  soft 
masses  under  her  hat.  He  noticed  with  fastidious  eyes 
the  perfect  folds  of  the  clinging  white  gown  ;  then  he  re- 
called the  look  which  had  shone  steadily  for  a  moment 
in  her  eyes,  and  he  was  filled  with  a  passionate  longing 
to  see  them  once  again  looking  into  his,  and  to  hear  from 
her  lips  the  pledge  they  had  given  silently.  Would  the 
interminable  day  never  be  over  ?  Would  he  never  win 
a  look  or  word  from  her  again  ?  He  bent  his  head  and 

said  to  her  in  a  low  tone  : 
28 


434  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

"  Robin,  may  I  drive  you  to  Airlie  when  you  are  ready 
to  go  ?  " 

She  looked  up  and  bravely  met  his  glance.  She  would 
neither  avoid  his  eyes,  nor  yet  allow  her  own  to  betray 
her  a  second  time.  She  said  in  a  tone  of  cousinly  con- 
cern : 

"  Why,  Cousin  Dick,  thee  looks  very  weary  after  thy 
long  journey.  Surely  thee  would  not  take  all  that  un- 
necessary drive  to  Airlie  ?  " 

"  But  I  would,  though,"  he  replied,  with  a  flash  in  his 
eyes  ;  then  he  added  : 

"  You  have  not  said  whether  I  may  drive  you  or  not  ?" 

"  I  think  I  had  better  go  back  with  mother  in  the  car- 
riage ;  she  would  be  left  to  take  the  drive  alone,"  she 
said  gently,  though  with  cool  decision. 

Dick's  face  flushed  slightly.  He  drew  back.  He  would 
neither  demur  nor  urge  her  to  go  ;  he  could  not,  indeed, 
unless  he  wished  all  the  room  to  hear.  In  a  few  moments 
there  was  a  stir  in  the  dining-room.  Then  Standish's 
cousin  crossed  to  Robin's  side  and  reminded  her  of  the 
promise  to  show  him  the  kennels.  She  rose  reluctantly 
and  said  hesitatingly  : 

"  Would  thee  care  to  come,  Dick  ?  " 

"  Thanks,  cousin,  I  think  I  must  utilize  the  remaining 
time  in  finding  out  Deborah's  plans  and  movements,"  he 
said  pleasantly  and  turned  away. 

In  little  less  than  an  hour  all  the  rest  of  the  guests, 
save  those  who  were  staying  at  The  Hatch,  were  ready 


CONFESSION.  435 

to  depart.  Dorothea  was  already  seated  in  the  Airlie 
carriage  and  Robin  was  about  to  follow,  when  her  mother 
said  : 

"  Richard,  is  n't  thee  going  back  with  us  ?  I  Ve  been 
counting  on  it ;  do  thee  get  in  with  us  and  let  thy  groom 
bring  thy  cart  over.  We  can  put  thee  up  and  thy  man 
too.  Do  come  ?" 

Dick  made  no  answer  for  a  moment.  Then  Robin 
turned  and  said  softly  : 

"  Will  thee  not  come,  Cousin  Dick  ?  " 

Dick  looked  her  squarely  in  the  eyes,  as  if  seeking  to 
understand  her.  He  wondered  how  long  and  how  far 
a  man  must  sue  for  a  woman's  love.  Then  he  replied 
gravely  : 

"  I  will  drive  over  later,  possibly."  He  lifted  his  hat. 
The  door  was  shut  with  a  snap,  and  the  carriage  moved 
on. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

"WAS  'T  NOT  TO  THIS  END?" 

Much  Ado  about  Nothing. 

HP HE  sun  was  just  setting  when  Dorothea  and  Robin 
reached  Airlie.  But  there  was  a  distinct  feeling  in 
Robin's  heart  that,  although  the  sun  was  nearly  down, 
the  day  was  not  over  for  her  ;  perhaps  it  was  only  about 
to  begin.  She  experienced  the  reaction  and  restlessness 
which  follow  upon  any  long-anticipated  event  when  it  is 
finally  over.  She  was  still  in  gala- dress  and  had  several 
hours  to  dispose  of.  What  should  she  do  with  them  ?  She 
took  off  her  hat  on  the  porch  and  lingered  a  moment. 
Then  she  made  a  decided  move  towards  the  stairway. 
Dorothea  said  : 

"  What  is  thee  going  to  do,  daughter  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  take  off  my  gown.  I  must  go  out  and 
see  the  men  ;  there  are  several  things  I  must  attend  to." 
As  she  spoke  she  looked  down  at  the  gown  and  touched 
it  softly.  It  was  so  pretty  she  was  loath  to  lay  it  aside. 

"Robin,  cannot  the  men  be  left  for  one  evening? 
Cannot  thee  stay  in  peace  with  me  ?  " 

436 


"  WAS  *T  NOT   TO   THIS   END  ?  "  437 

"  Why,  yes,  mother,"  she  answered  hesitatingly,  turn- 
ing away  from  the  stairs  and  coming  back  to  the  porch  ; 
then  she  said  : 

"  When  the  men  come  in  to  their  supper  I  will  just 
speak  to  them  and  will  not  go  out  myself  "  ;  but  there 
was  an  anxiety  in  her  tone,  a  restlessness  in  her  manner 
very  unusual  to  her.  Dorothea  shrewdly  guessed  that 
some  crisis  was  at  hand,  and  she  sighed  as  she  thought 
that  she  could  not  help  her.  She  should  have  to  let  her 
daughter  meet  it  alone  and  work  it  out  in  her  own  way. 

They  went  in  presently  and  made  a  pretence  of  having 
tea.  Afterwards  they  sat  on  the  porch  through  the 
gathering  twilight  with  only  occasional  remarks  passing 
between  them.  Neither  mentioned  Dick,  though  each 
had  him  in  her  mind  and  on  her  lips.  At  last  Robin 
rose  and  passed  through  the  house  to  the  back  porch, 
where  the  hands  were  smoking  their  evening  pipes.  She 
had  some  question,  some  instruction  for  each  man  ;  then 
she  went  down  the  high  flight  of  steps  and  towards  the 
silent  garden.  She  walked  up  and  down  each  of  the 
paths,  gathering  absently  a  flower  or  two  from  some  bush 
which  loomed  up,  scarcely  distinguishable  in  the  soft 
summer  night.  She  sat  a  moment  on  the  bench  under 
the  old  pear-tree  and  leaned  against  its  gnarled  trunk  ; 
then  restlessly  rose,  left  the  garden,  and  skirting  the 
house,  went  across  the  lawn  and  down  the  lane. 

Dorothea  caught  a  faint   gleam  of  her  white  gown, 
then     she    was     completely    lost    and     swallowed    up 


438  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

in  the  deep  shadows  of  the  trees.  Robin  went  to  a 
favorite  seat  under  one  of  the  old  locust-trees.  She 
could  not  be  distinguished  readily  in  the  surrounding 
gloom,  for  the  road  which  led  up  the  lane  did  not  pass 
very  near  to  her  retreat.  Here  she  gave  herself  up  to 
her  conflicting  thoughts,  with  only  the  chirping  sounds 
of  the  insect  world,  the  faint  light  from  the  village,  and 
the  tinkle  of  a  cow-bell  in  the  meadow  for  distractions. 
She  knew  that  a  meeting  with  her  cousin  was  imminent, 
and  she  felt  the  hot  color  in  her  face  as  she  remembered 
the  look  of  love  in  his  eyes  ;  and,  oh,  shame  !  the  unre- 
served look  she  had  given  back  in  answer.  She  knew 
he  might  be  here  any  moment  to  claim  something  be- 
sides a  mere  look  from  her  ;  yet  she  remembered  the 
grave  expression  on  his  face  when  they  parted  at  The 
Hatch.  Would  he  come  ?  and  how  was  she  to  meet 
him  ?  If  he  drove  up  the  lane  she  would  stay  in  the 
safe  shelter  of  the  old  tree  till  he  reached  the  house  ; 
then  she  would  go  forth  and  meet  him  on  the  porch  in 
'the  sheltering  presence  of  her  mother. 

In  a  few  moments  her  keenly-strained  ears  caught  the 
rattle  of  an  approaching  light  vehicle.  She  lost  the 
sound  for  a  moment,  then  it  rose  again  loud  and  clear. 
She  peered  out  from  behind  the  tree  ;  yes,  it  was  her 
cousin's  cart  which  rattled  on  past  her  to  the  house. 
Then  all  was  still.  She  breathed  freely.  She  would  not 
give  him  time  to  come  in  search  of  her  ;  she  would 
follow  at  once.  She  rose  from  the  bench  and  made  a 


"  WAS  *T  NOT   TO   THIS   END  ?  "  439 

step  or  two  forward,  when  she  caught  the  light  tread  of 
some  one  coming  hastily  over  the  grass  from  the  gate. 
It  was  one  of  the  men  coming  back  from  the  village  ; 
she  could  discern  him  plainly.  She  drew  back  to  wait 
until  he  passed.  But  the  man  had  seen  her.  He  paused 
an  instant  as  if  startled  by  the  gleam  of  her  white  gown 
coming  out  so  unexpectedly  from  the  trees  ;  then  with  a 
quick  exclamation,  and  a  quicker  stride,  he  was  at  her 
side,  and  before  she  could  shrink  away  her  hands  were 
seized  and  held  in  a  strong  clasp  ;  a  face  was  bent  to 
hers.  She  made  a  move  to  free  herself,  but  in  vain  ;  she 
had  just  spirit  enough  left  to  say  tremulously  : 

"  I  thought  thee  went  by  in  the  cart  just  now,  Dick  ?" 
"  I  had  a  fancy  for  walking  up  the  lane,"  he  replied, 
trying  to  trace  her  features  in  the  darkness  and  read  the 
expression  of  her  face.  She  made  another  ineffectual 
move  to  free  her  hands,  but  he  held  them  fast,  and  said 
in  a  low,  resolute  tone  : 

"  I  will  not  let  you  go  from  me  again."  He  paused, 
then  went  on  in  a  quiet  voice  :  "  When  I  parted  from 
you  years  ago  as  a  boy,  to  go  to  Germany,  I  can  remem- 
ber many  a  time  during  my  student  days  of  feeling  your 
little  arms  clinging  about  my  neck,  and  I  can  recall  the 
homesick  feeling  which  would  come  over  me  till  the 
years  of  study  and  work  made  the  memory  dim.  Then 
afterwards  I  came  upon  Standish  one  cool  April  night. 
He  told  me  of  my  far-away  cousin  who  was  so  brave  and 
so  beautiful,  and  I  can  feel  now  the  sudden  leap  in  my 


440  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

heart.  He  left  me,  and  after  all  those  years  I  heard 
again  your  tremulous,  childish  voice,  and  felt  your  arms 
tightening  about  my  neck,  as  they  had  done  in  parting. 
From  that  time  until  I  reached  America,  I  thought  of 
nothing,  night  and  day,  but  of  coming  home  to  you,  of 
taking  your  burdens  off  your  shoulders.  When  I  saw 
you  for  the  first  time  in  the  dairy  door,  I  knew  instantly  it 
would  be  only  a  matter  of  time  before  I  should  be  a  sup- 
pliant for  your  love.  The  next  day  you  refused  my  help 
and  myself  as  well.  You  little  dreamed  that  it  was  pas- 
sion which  had  suddenly  leaped  all  bounds,  and  caused 
me  to  offer  myself  and  be  rejected.  Since  then  I  have 
had  no  moment,  sleeping  or  waking,  when  your  face  has 
not  been  before  me,  when  I  have  not  wanted  your  love. 
I  have  tried  to  win  it.  Many  a  day  I  have  seen  you  toil 
in  the  fields  with  your  men,  and  cursed  the  uselessness 
of  my  money.  I  have  longed  to  put  you  aside  in  some 
sheltered  spot  and  take  your  work  on  my  own  shoulders. 
At  last  I  went  away  from  you  almost  in  despair.  To-day 
I  came  back — " 

He  paused  for  a  moment.  Every  word  he  uttered  had 
fallen  upon  her  heart.  She  made  a  movement,  but  he 
broke  in  passionately  : 

"  I  will  let  you  go  from  me  if  you  wish,  but  it  will  be 
to  gather  you  in  my  arms  and  hold  you  more  closely 
still.  Do  you  think  any  thing  but  the  memory  of  your 
face  as  you  turned  it  to  me  to-day  has  brought  me  here 
to-night  ?  Do  you  think  any  thing  but  that  chattering 


"  WAS  'T  NOT   TO   THIS   END  ?  "  441 

crowd  at  The  Hatch  kept  me  from  telling  you  then  and 
there  that  I  love  you,  and  claiming  on  the  spot  the 
promise  your  eyes  had  given  ?  No,  I  am  not  to  be 
put  off  now,  when  I  have  had  a  divine  glimpse  of  your 
heart.  I  will  never  let  you  go  from  me  until  I  hear  with 
your  heart  and  lips  on  mine  that  you  love  me." 

He  had  gradually  tightened  his  clasp  upon  her  hands 
until  the  pressure  was  almost  painful.  His  head  was 
eagerly  bent  in  anxious  waiting. 

Dick's  words  swept  over  Robin  like  a  torrent.  Every 
one  of  them  found  an  echo  in  her  heart,  and  as  she  felt 
her  love  rise  up  in  its  might  in  answer  to  his,  she  lifted 
her  face  quickly  in  the  soft  summer  night,  and  he  would 
have  seen  her  heart  in  her  eyes  save  for  the  darkness. 
But  he  saw  the  lifting  of  the  head,  and  his  eager  love 
divined  the  rest.  He  loosened  her  hands  at  last,  but  only 
to  gather  her  impetuously  in  his  arms  and  hold  her 
closely  to  him,  his  lips  alternately  murmuring  tender 
words  of  endearment  and  pressed  to  hers  again  and 
again  in  passionate  fervor.  He  asked  in  a  low  tone  : 

"  Did  you  dream  all  that  your  eyes  said  to  me  this 
morning,  Robin  ?  " 

"  Dick,"  she  answered,  "  when  thee  came  upon  me  so 
suddenly  I  could  not  help  showing  thee  truly  what  was 
in  my  heart  ;  it  had  been  there  so  long,"  she  concluded 
with  a  touch  of  shyness. 

"  How  long  ?  "  he  murmured. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  she  said,  "  unless  always.  When  I  told 


442  GILBERT   ELGAR*S   SON. 

thee  last  winter,  just  before  thee  went  away,  that  I  did 
not  need  thee,  it  was  partly  true  ;  I  had  not  understood 
thee  was  asking  for  my  love." 

"  And  if  I  had  put  my  question  differently  you  would 
have  given  me  your  love  then  ?  "  he  asked  relentlessly. 

She  did  not  answer,  and  the  pause  was  eloquent. 

"  My  little  cousin,"  he  said  tenderly,  "  how  could  it 
be  possible  for  you  to  mistake  me  for  an  instant  ?  I 
have  never  once  been  in  your  presence  since  I  came 
from  Germany  without  showing  plainly  that  I  loved  you. 
Why,  it  has  been  patent  to  every  one  else  for  months.'' 

"  But,  Dick,  when  thee  asked  me  that  night  if  I  needed 
thee,  I  had  just  recalled  to  thee  my  debts,  and  my  pride 
rose  in  arms,  as  I  thought  thee  was  going  to  offer  me 
pecuniary  aid,  as  thee  had  done  once  before.  Thee  had 
scarcely  turned  away  when  I  knew  thee  meant  to  offer  me 
thy  love.  Thee  sees,"  she  continued  wistfully,  "  I  have 
led  such  a  different  life  from  most  girls,  I  have  never  had 
time  nor  thought  for  such  things.  I  have  had  a  son's 
place  to  fill.  I  have  had  debt  and  poverty  to  contend 
with,  and  I  have  a  pride  equal  to  thine.  When  thee 
came  from  Germany  I  could  only  think  of  thee  as  my 
rich  foreign  cousin,  and  when  thee  so  masterfully  wanted 
to  take  matters  out  of  my  hands,  wanted  to  buy  up  our 
debts,  and  finally  offered  to  marry  me,  I  resented  it ;  I 
could  not  dream  thee  wanted  any  thing  but  to  have  thy 
own  way.  Afterwards,  when  I  thought  about  it,  and  saw 
how  pained  thee  was  because  I  worked  out  on  the  farm,  I 


"  WAS  'T   NOT   TO   THIS   END  ?  "  443 

realized  thee  was  not  changed,  thee  was  the  sameDick,  and 
it  was  pure  generosity  and  chivalry  towards  thy  two  lonely 
kinswomen  that  made  thee  offer  thyself.  From  that  time 
there  came  back  to  me  the  old  childish  feeling  of  trust. 
And,  Dick,"  she  went  on  quaintly,  "the  little  girl  who 
used  to  come  to  thee  with  all  her  joys  and  woes  and  the 
cousin  thee  came  home  to  find  are  both  here.  They 
claim  no  kin  with  the  young  woman  who  rejected  thee  in 
the  sitting-room.  We  both — " 

"  We  both — what  ? "  he  asked  gently. 

"  What  need  to  say  it,  Dick  ? "  she  said  softly. 

What  need  was  there  indeed,  with  the  soft  night  around 
them  and  her  face  so  near  to  his  ? 

"  Miss  Rob  !  oh,  Miss  Rob  ! "  rang  out  a  voice  start- 
ingly  from  the  lawn,  "  Miss  Dorothy  say  why  'n't  you 
come  in  ? " 

"  I  am  coming,  Joppa." 

They  turned  and  walked  slowly  through  the  lovely 
summer  night.  Never  had  it  taken  so  long  to  go  from 
the  locust-tree  to  the  porch,  and  the  low  murmurs  of 
their  voices  as  they  approached  told  Dorothea  that  a  love 
had  been  given  and  accepted. 

"  Mother,  is  thee  here  ?  "  said  Robin. 

"  Yes,  daughter  ;  I  was  worried  because  I  heard  some- 
thing come  up  the  lane  long  ago,  and  yet  no  one  came 
to  the  house.  I  did  not  understand  it,  so  I  sent  Joppa 
to  look  for  thee." 

There  was  something  of  anxiety  in  Dorothea's  tone. 


444  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON 

Dick  went  hastily  to  her  side  and  said,  with  the  old 
boyish  ring  in  his  voice  :  "  Aunt  Dorothy,  do  you  re- 
member that  I  asked  you  a  year  ago  if  you  would  object 
to  me  as  a  son  ?  Have  you  kept  the  place  you  promised 
me  then  ? " 

Dorothea  rose  to  her  feet  when  she  heard  in  Dick's 
voice  and  words  the  realization  of  her  mother's  hopes. 

"  Yes,  Richard,  I  have  kept  the  promised  place  and  I 
am  ready  to  welcome  thee  to  it,"  she  said  as  he  stooped 
to  kiss  her  cheek. 

Then  she  turned  to  Robin.  "  And  thee,  my  child  ?  " 
she  asked  in  tender  solicitude. 

Robin  stroked  her  mother's  hand,  then  broke  out  sud- 
denly :  "  Mother,  does  thee  mean  that  thee  and  Dick 
conspired  against  me  a  whole  year  ago  ?  " 

Dick  turned  to  her  quickly  and  said  tenderly  :  l<  It  was 
no  conspiracy,  Robin.  The  day  after  your  scornful  re- 
jection in  the  sitting-room,  Aunt  Dorothea  took  me  to 
task  for  my  madness,  and  I  told  her  that  I  loved  you  and 
meant  to  win  you  if  I  could.  If  I  remember  aright,  she 
thought  I  was  demented  and  told  me  so." 

"  But  how  did  mother  manage  to  keep  it  to  herself  all 
this  time  ? ' '  Robin  asked  in  bewilderment. 

"  Daughter,  Richard  confided  his  secret  to  me  in 
justification  of  his  rash  offer.  I  had  no  right  to  tell 
thee." 

Robin  laughed  softly  as  she  said  :  "  Oh,  mother  dear, 
I  am  afraid  thee  is  wily  ;  I  think  I  see  a  tiny  trail  of  the 
serpent  under  all  thy  stern  secrecy." 


"  WAS  'T  NOT  TO   THIS   END  ?  "  445 

Dorothea  laughed  a  little  as  if  convicted.  Then  for 
a  short  time  they  sat  on  the  porch  and  talked,  until 
she  rose  and  quietly  groped  her  way  into  the  house  and 
left  them,  with  Adsum  and  Gilbert's  old  chair  in  the 
corner  the  only  listeners  to  their  words. 

When  Dick  rose  to  go  at  last  and  they  stood  under 
the  eaves  at  parting,  he  raised  her  face  to  his  and  said  : 

"  You  have  grown  silent.     Have  I  wearied  you  ? " 

She  smiled  gravely  to  herself  in  the  dark  and  tried  to 
shake  off  the  quiet  mood  which  had  been  gradually  steal- 
ing over  her.  Dick  thought  he  understood  the  feeling 
which  had  kept  her  silent  for  a  time.  It  was  akin  to  the 
tears  she  had  had  in  her  eyes  when  Harmony  went  away 
from  her  home  that  morning.  And  he  parted  from  her 
quietly,  with  the  utmost  tenderness,  his  parting  kiss  only 
upon  her  hands. 

The  next  morning  he  rode  back  to  Airlie  in  a  joyous 
mood.  He  found  that  his  cousin  had  gone  to  the  dairy, 
whither  he  went  immediately  in  search  of  her.  Robin 
heard  the  click  of  the  gate  and  her  heart  stood  still.  It 
was  harder  to  meet  Dick  to-day  than  it  had  been  the 
night  before  on  the  lawn.  She  leaned  against  the  table  ; 
there  was  a  look  of  shy  expectancy  and  something  of 
anxiouf  ness  and  uncertainty  on  her  face.  But  when  he 
appeared  in  the  doorway  there  was  such  a  sense  of  cool 
strength  about  him,  such  a  light  in  his  eyes,  that  her  face 
lost  its  fleeting  expression  of  doubt.  She  put  out  her 
hands  in  joyous  welcome. 

But  Dick  had  seen  the  look  of  uncertainty,  of  wistful- 


446  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

ness  in  her  eyes  as  he  entered.  He  held  her  hands  and 
looked  in  her  face.  Was  it  possible  after  all  that  he  had 
not  won  her  ?  He  remembered  her  silence  at  parting 
the  night  before.  He  studied  her  anxiously  with  almost 
growing  fear. 

"  What  is  it,  Robin  ?  "  he  asked  at  last  tenderly. 

"  Thee  is  fanciful,  Dick,"  she  returned  lightly.  Dick 
eyed  her  keenly  for  a  moment  or  two.  Was  he  fanciful, 
he  wondered,  or  was  there  something  in  her  heart  which 
she  held  back  from  him  ?  He  leaned  his  arms  upon  the 
dairy  table  and  watched  her  weigh  out  the  golden  butter 

and  deftly  mold  it  into  little  squares  all  of  exact  shape. 
***** 

In  a  few  days  the  harvest  drew  on  and  Dick  could 
have  only  a  moment  with  her,  snatched  here  and  there 
from  her  work  in  the  field,  or  in  the  evenings  when  she 
was  jaded  from  the  long  day  of  unceasing  toil.  During 
these  days  he  was  very  restless  and  miserable.  Her 
pride  was  so  great  that  he  could  not  interfere  nor  offer 
any  help.  And  as  from  time  to  time  he  caught  the  same 
fleeting  expression  of  doubt  and  uncertainty  in  her  eyes, 
he  determined  to  press  for  an  immediate  marriage. 

One  evening  when  he  was  sure  the  harvest  was  over, 
he  went  to  Airlie  and  found  Robin  out  in  the  garden. 
She  was  sitting  under  the  old  pear-tree,  leaning  against 
its  trunk.  He  stood  a  moment  and  watched  her.  She 
was  in  deep  thought.  He  saw  her  eyes  fixed  wistfully 
upon  the  distant  fields,  then  wander  to  the  house,  taking 


"  WAS  *T   NOT   TO   THIS   END  ?  "  447 

in  each  dearly-loved  thing.  And  in  that  gaze  he  divined 
the  trouble  in  her  mind  and  heart.  He  approached  her 
and  taking  her  hands  looked  down  into  her  eyes  and 
said  sadly  : 

"  You  could  have  trusted  me  utterly,  Robin." 

"  Dick,  I  do  trust  thee  utterly,"  she  said,  with  faint 
surprise. 

He  went  on  :  "I  read  in  your  wistful  eyes  just  now  as 
you  looked  all  over  the  place  the  trouble  in  your 
heart.  You  have  been  seeing  the  old  home  broken  up, 
Airlie  in  the  hands  of  strangers,  your  work  all  for  naught, 
yourself  wandering  in  a  foreign  land  with  me,  your 
mother  pining  in  a  strange  home.  Oh,  my  love  !  you 
could  have  trusted  me,"  he  said,  with  pain  in  his  eyes. 
Then  he  asked  curiously  :  "  Could  you  have  made  this 
sacrifice,  Robin  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  said,  though  her  face  was  pale  ;  then  she 
went  on  firmly  :  "  There  would  be  much  bitterness  to 
me  in  abandoning  my  work,  in  going  away  from  the  old 
home  and  never  realizing  the  hopes  I  have  of  its  future, 
but  it  would  be  the  very  bitterness  of  death  to  me  to 
have  Airlie,  with  thee  gone  out  of  my  life." 

Dick  folded  his  arms  about  her  with  infinite  tender- 
ness. 

"  Dick,"  she  said  wistfully,  "  does  thee  think  it  un- 
natural for  me  to  think  so  much  of  the  old  home,  to 
have  so  much  interest  in  the  work  I  have  undertaken, 
and  to  wonder  how  it  will  be  with  Airlie  when  I  am 


448  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

gone  ? "     There  was  a  moment  of   silence,  then    Dick 
said  : 

"  My  dearest  heart,  while  you  have  been  picturing 
Airlie  abandoned  and  dismal,  I  have  been  seeing  it  in 
quite  another  light.  I  have  seen  the  old  farm  a  model 
estate,  perfect  in  every  detail.  I  have  seen  the  house 
restored  to  its  early  glory,  with  Aunt  Dorothy  living  out 
a  good  old  age  in  peace  and  plenty,  and  yourself  the 
presiding  spirit  over  all.  I  have  seen  myself  an  humble 
appendage  allowed  to  hang  up  my  hat  in  your  hall  when 
I  come  home  from  my  travels,  or  perhaps  permitted,  as 
a  special  indulgence,  to  bring  in  my  bits  of  stone,  rocks, 
and  herbs,  and  put  them  away  somewhere  out  of  sight." 

Dick  laughed  mischievously  as  he  finished  and  saw  the 
light  beginning  to  dawn  in  Robin's  eyes. 

"  Thee  means,  Dick,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone,  "  that 
thee  would  make  a  sacrifice  ?  " 

"  No,  Robin,  there  would  be  no  talk  of  sacrifice,"  he 
said  earnestly  ;  "  I  have  been  a  wanderer  nearly  all  my 
life  ;  I  have  no  home,  no  ties  ;  therefore  there  can  be  no 
sacrifice.  I  have  no  affection  for  any  place  unless  it  be 
Airlie.  You  have  undertaken  to  bring  up  this  farm  to 
the  old  flourishing  state  ;  I  see  no  reason  why  you  should 
not  carry  out  your  plan.  You  have  a  work  which  can- 
not be  carried  out  anywhere  but  here  ;  my  work  can  be 
done  anywhere  on  the  globe.  And  if  I  can  come  back 
to  you  always,  what  do  I  care  where  the  place  may  be  so 
long  as  it  holds  you  and  you  are  content  ?  " 


"  WAS  'T  NOT  TO   THIS   END  ?  " 


449 


"  Oh,  Cousin  Dick  !  "  was  all  Robin  could  say,  and  the 
quick  tears  sprang  to  her  eyes.  She  buried  her  face 
upon  his  breast  as  she  had  been  wont  to  do  when  she 
was  a  child.  She  lifted  her  face  to  ask  presently  : 

"  And  Ivanwold  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know  just  what  I  would  do  with  Ivanwold  ; 
rent  it,  perhaps  ;  I  would  provide  for  Deborah,  of 
course." 

Robin  looked  gravely  into  his  eyes,  then  slowly  said  : 

"  Dick,  it  is  a  generous,  noble  plan,  but  it  will  not  do. 
It  would  be  a  sacrifice,  no  matter  how  little  thee  would 
regard  it  as  such." 

"  And  yet,"  he  said,  "  you  would  make  even  a  greater 
sacrifice,  which  might  perhaps  bring  misery  and  discon- 
tent in  its  train  ?  No,  believe  me,  I  have  thought 
it  out  well,  and  my  plan  is  the  best  for  the  happiness  of 
us  all.  And  " — he  bent  his  head  to  read  her  face — 
"  especially  is  it  best  for  the  happiness  of  the  dearest 
one  on  earth  to  me — Uncle  Gilbert's  son." 

***** 

In  the  early  days  of  autumn  there  was  a  wedding  at 
Airlie.  Every  familiar  face  in  the  neighborhood  was 
present.  When  the  simple  words  of  the  Friend's  mar- 
riage were  solemnly  uttered  in  the  old  sitting-room  which 
had  been  the  scene  of  so  many  events,  Dorothea  was 
carried  back  to  the  day  when  Gilbert  had  stood  before 
her  in  this  same  room,  and  with  the  terrible  confession 
of  his  own  overmastering  temptation  upon  his  lips  had 
29 


450  GILBERT  ELGAR'S  SON. 

recalled  these  very  words.  As  she  thought  of  him  and 
of  their  own  wedding-day  she  saw  Gilbert  in  fancy  stand- 
ing at  her  side,  and  she  heard  him  repeat  the  solemn 
words  in  unison  with  Dick's  heartfelt  tones  : 

"  In  the  presence  of  the  Lord  and  before  this  assembly, 
I  take  Dorothea  to  be  my  wife,  promising  with  Divine 
assistance  to  be  unto  her  a  loving  and  faithful  husband 
until  death  shall  separate  us." 

And  then  with  a  tear  upon  her  cheek,  she  brought 
herself  back  to  the  joyous  present. 

And  as  the  last  words  of  the  marriage  died  away, 
and  her  loving  glance  fell  upon  the  wedded  pair,  sitting 
side  by  side,  with  the  deep,  silent  grace  of  the  Friends 
resting  upon  them  and  upon  the  hushed  room,  she  saw 
the  light  in  her  daughter's  eyes,  and  the  reverent  joy  in 
Dick's  face,  and  there  went  up  from  her  heart  a  thanks- 
giving for  the  love  and  happiness  that  had  fallen  upon 
Airlie. 


THE   END 


X  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LB8AHY  F ACUITY 


A     000104463 


